Sadalsuud
by Enchantable
Summary: Moviefic! The day before his wedding to Tamina, Dastan finally tells her the truth about what transpired between them in the alternate time.
1. Chapter 1

**Omigosh I loved this movie!**

**Especially Dastan and Tamina. **

**There was so much potential at the end it made me crazy! So here's what I came up with! It takes place a month after the movie. Bonus points for whoever guesses what the name of the story actually means/is related too!**

**So yeah, spoilers for EVERYTHING in the movie. **

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He did not recognize the man staring back at him.

Dastan, Prince of Persia, the Lion, the adopted son of the King-the man who in a day would take part in a union that would unite two kingdoms-looked _nothing_ like the man who stared back at him. His hair was washed and pulled back, his face was clean shaven. The clothing he wore was, well, easily the most expensive clothing he had worn in his entire life. Folds of pale silk, heavy with bright gold embroidery, hung from his frame. For the first time he could remember he carried no weapons. Even the worn red sash that had followed him through all his adventures was gone, replaced by a bright new ruby one. All that was enough to make him feel like the man who stared back at him was a stranger.

But what truly stopped him was the haunted, sleepless eyes that stared back at him.

His brothers had ridiculed him as having 'wedding jitters'-something Tus had boasted vanished by the time your reached your third wife-but Dastan knew it was much worse than that. He was not just about to marry a beautiful Princess. He was about to marry a woman he was already in love with-a woman who did not reciprocate the feeling. How could she? Tamina only knew him as the Prince who had been all but forced on her. She did not know him like he knew her. She did not remember them sitting in the tent, so close he could count her eyelashes anymore than she remembered him desperately holding onto her wrist, screaming that he wouldn't let her drop even as she begged him to let her go. She did not remember tearfully releasing his wrist, telling him that she wished they had been together before falling to her death-

But he did.

Gods he did.

How many nights over the past month had he woken screaming, reaching for something that could not be caught? More than the Prince could count. Once again it was something with a simple explantation-one that defied the fantastical but truthful one. His days with Tamina had been few, with him constantly going between Persia and Alamut. But every time that he came back, he half expected her to be dead. Or to remember. But neither happened and each left a different kind of disappointment churning deep in his stomach. She was kind if a little sharp, she was the same woman, and yet she was different. She did not know him like he knew her. And therein lay the problem. It was like walking on eggshells, trying not to let it slip that he knew things-things he should not have known. Like even when she was hauled in front of the King who conquered her land she still managed to snap. Or how she had been so willing to sacrifice herself to see the world safe-how he would give _anything_ to make sure that would not happen again.

"How's the future King of Alamut?" Bis demanded, throwing open the doors with exuberance, "Gods, Dastan, its about to be your wedding day-not your execution! You look like you're going to be sick!"

"I think I might be," Dastan said, turning away from the mirror and running his hand across his hair, "Bis," he looked up at his friend, "if you had something really-really important to tell someone else-but they might think you mad or worse-would you tell them?"

"Oh Gods, did you sleep with another woman last night?" Bis demanded, "its not that bad, Prince's do it all the time-you'll probably have five wives this time next year and they're going to have to share you-"

"Bis! I didn't sleep with another woman last night," Dastan said.

"Oh, then whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Just wait til after the wedding when she can't run away."

Dastan looked at him. He knew Tamina and he knew that if he didn't tell her now she probably would run away-and leave him bruised or worse. He couldn't wait until after the wedding, he had to tell her. He had to tell her now. After all that they had been through he owed her more than a marriage to a liar-even if she could not remember what had happened between them. Moving behind the screen in his room, he began reaching for the buttons high on his throat. Dastan pulled off the heavy ornate fabric, grabbing his regular cloths and throwing them on before stepping into the main room. Out of habit he grabbed his sword and strapped it on before crossing the space to the door.

"Dastan where are you going?" Bis demanded.

"Out," Dastan called back.

"Try to get back in time for your wedding would you?" his friend called after him.

Dastan waved a hand before walking out into the main hallway. Everywhere he went there were people preparing for the wedding, all of whom smiled and attributed his sleepless look to the impending event. Dastan tried to get his lips to curve, to extend courtesy to the people around him but it felt like his features had frozen. Half the time his smile did not make it to his lips. By the time he made it to the ground floor of the palace, Dastan had half broken into a run. He had to get out of the palace, away from the silver bowls filled with white flowers and the smells of meat cooking for the wedding feast. All of it was a lie. His father had said that he was a great man. But what kind of man let the situation get as bad as he had. he should have just told her-that first day he should have found a way to say something.

He was not a great man, he wasn't even a good Prince and he had a feeling he was going to make a disappointing husband as well.

Instead of going into the city or even out of the palace, he made his way down, into the tunnels that Tamina had shown him before. There was less sand in them, the secret catacombs still secret but obviously not having suffered the way they had when the Persians had been combing the city for the hourglass. His feet easily took him to the statue where Tamina had first unlocked the passageway into the room filled with sand. It had been swept clean, the cobwebs decorating the statue removed. Dastan half wondered if they were planning to show him around after he became King. The cleanness and smell of incense certainly spoke of welcoming someone.

Dastan frowned as he rounded the corner. The smell of incense was new. He half knew what he would see when he turned the corner and yet his feet took him all the way into the room where Tamina was. She was kneeling in front of the statue, her fingers clasped around two narrow sticks of incense that filled the air with heavy perfume. Dastan felt his breath catch. She was wearing the ornate white robe that she wore when she prayed. Even now he could see the dark henna that decorated her hands, the symbols accented with bright gold. Crystals wove through her dark locks, framing her face. In spite of the breathtaking beauty, as he looked at her Dastan realized that he'd practically cut his own arm off to see her in that ostrich racing get up again. He watched as she finished her prayers, placing the incense in the statue's hands before turning to face him.

"See something you like?" she asked, her tone sharp.

"Sorry-I-uh-" Dastan stopped, "you don't seem surprised to see me here," he said, his eyes sweeping over her.

"Why should i be?" she asked.

"Well isn't this place supposed to be secret?" he asked.

"You seem to know a great many things that are supposed to be secret," Tamina returned, brushing past him and starting up the stairs.

Dastan looked at her curiously. If he didn't know better he would say that she was angry with him. No, he did know her, and he could tell that she was angry with him. It was written all over the haughty expression on her face, in the way her fingers clenched around the layers of fabric she wore, in the stomp of her slippered feet as she all but pounded up the stairs. Quickly he ran through what had transpired between them in the two days that he had been in the City but nothing stuck out to him. They had barely seen each other, both all but confined to their rooms as final preparations were made for their impending nuptials. And yet the Princess was treating him like he had offended her.

"Your Highness if I've offended you-"

"Oh not all, Prince Dastan," she said, "like every Princess, I so enjoy being lied to by the man I am to marry in a few days."

Dastan's feet faltered as he stared at her. Lied to her? Did she know? Were the guardians of the dagger somehow privy to its secrets? But no, he realized. That was impossible. She had been surprised when he had released the sands and tuned back time during their first fight. Which could only mean-well it meant something. He looked up, realizing that while his pace had faltered hers had sped up. Quickly he put on speed, catching her as they reached the top of the stairs where she threw open the doors and stepped out into the hallway without a care to how it looked for the bride and groom to be coming out of a dark, secluded place a day before their wedding.

"Lied to?" he followed her out of the entrance and into the hallway, "how have I lied to you?"

"As if you don't know," she said, her dark eyes blazing as she glared at him. He stared at her, his confusion genuine. Her anger seemed to falter for a moment before she turned a corner. He followed her as she walked out of the palace and into a secluded garden, spinning on her heel to face him so quickly he very nearly fell into her, "contrary to how you treat me I am _not_ a complete idiot," she snapped at him.

It had taken him a lot of practice and an incredible amount of self control not to rise to every opportunity she gave him for banter. Even in her most Princessey state, Tamina was anything but a damsel in distress. She was cunning and brilliant and beautiful-things he was already very aware of. But without the threat of the end of the world, she seemed to possess a bit more patience and a thread of more self control. Her barbs were fewer and further in between. But now as he looked down at her angry face, he felt his hackles rise in the promise of a fight.

"Well maybe if you stopped treating me like one we could figure out where this anger is coming from," he shot back at her.

"_Me_ treat _you_ like an idiot?" she demanded, drawing herself up to her slightly fuller height, "I have done nothing of the sort!"

"And I have?"

"Oh you think I don't see the way you look at me?" she demanded.

"The way you dress, I think looking's part of what you're going for-"

"Says the man who wanders around without a shirt on for absolutely no reason!" she cried, "and you don't look at me like someone whose admiring my clothing-or what's underneath for that matter," she told him.

"And how do I look at you?" he questioned.

"Like I'm going to slip through your fingers and disappear!"

Dastan's eyes widened as he stared at her. She held his gaze, her lips still parted from her angry shout before they pressed together as if she had said too much. He gaped at her as she turned and looked at the reflecting pool to their right, staring intently at the water, her back turned to him. He looked at her like she was going to disappear. He had been so intent on not letting anything slip, on not giving away what had happened that he hadn't even thought of the way he was looking at her. Suddenly he wished that he had the dagger so he could go back and erase that crucial mistake. It had been a month and he was sure that if he had spent a month looking at her like she was going to disappear, she had to know that something was going on.

Slowly he turned so that he too was facing the reflecting pool. In its broken reflection he could see her features staring hard at the water, as if she was willing her emotions back. He looked at his own haunted, sleepless face and realized that she looked a thousand times more royal than he ever would. But just like him she had lost control and let something slip that she clearly wished she hadn't. Letting out a breath, Dastan looked over at her in the reflection of the water. Her eyes darted over to his, just for a moment before they once again moved away.

"I've heard you too," she said, as if admitting a great secret, "I heard you that first night after my prayers. We had only just met but you were having a nightmare and you-" she stopped before continuing, "you screamed my name."

Dastan swore and looked away, feeling his cheeks burn with shame. Of course her prayers would take her through the palace and he was not known for being quiet. Not unless an attack required it. How many times had she spoken of how being the guardian of the dagger was her most important duty? And she'd heard him screaming her name. He knew that it was because of the nightmares, because every night he was in that palace of hers he would remember her wrist in his hand. Remember what if felt like to have her release his hand and fall to her death. He'd always awake in a cold sweat, his breath coming in choked gasps as his mind tried to figure out that she was alive and well somewhere in the palace. That even if it was a memory, it was no longer real. Not anymore.

"You never brought it up," he began.

"Well its not exactly the type of thing one brings up in idle conversation," she snapped, cutting him off.

"Well I think it would be the type of thing one'd be curious about," he shot back.

"Well maybe I knew you would avoid the conversation!" she told him, her eyes narrowing in triumph when he looked away, "what did your friends tell you, don't tell the Princess the truth until you're married and she can't run away?"

"Yes-no-well I wasn't going to do that!" he said defensively as her mouth opened in outrage, "besides if its been bothering you so much why haven't you said anything?"

"You know very well that I can't have people attacking this city!" she said.

"And how do I know that?"

"Because you know what the dagger does!" she shouted. He had no retort for that but his mouth opened anyway. Before he could get the words out though, her hands yanked the long chain she wore up, revealing the vial of sand nestled between her breasts, "don't lie to me and claim you do not know what this is," she said, holding the glass vial aloft so he could see the sand inside. His eyes moved away, "my sacred duty is-"

"To watch the dagger, I know," he said.

"To protect the dagger. So I watched you," she said, "after that first night. I saw the way you looked at me, the way you knew things you were not supposed to-" she shook her head, "all of it made too much sense. You used the dagger before."

The words were soft for their monumental accusation but Tamina pushed any guilt she felt aside. Ever since that first night she had watched, she had waited, she had held her breath every time the Prince Dastan spoke. Slowly the puzzle pieces began to come together but the picture they showed was anything but comforting. She had agreed to the marriage for many reasons but soon it became clear that she was going to need to keep the Prince close. But as time went on, he proved himself to be far more courageous and therefore much more dangerous than she had anticipated. Her goal had been to keep the city safe, even if that meant marrying the Persian, but soon it became clear the two were even closer intertwined than she could have imagined. But as she watched him it became clear that she was not the only one observing.

She had barely noticed it at first, mistaking his hungry stares for the leering of a warrior. It was not until she noticed the sleeplessness in his face, noticed the anxious way his eyes searched out possible threats or how even when they rode side by side, he insisted on being just slightly in front of her. Slowly she realized that he was protecting her. LIke one who already knew how trouble prone she was. Initially she had been suspicious, then she had been flattered, then she had been suspicious all over again. Dastan was kind but he seemed almost haunted. Far too haunted for a man who had lived the years he had. When he had shyly admitted to her that he had been adopted by the King-even though she already knew-and attributed his actions to his early life on the streets she had almost believed him. Almost, but not quite.

And now seeing him looking away, she knew.

He had used the dagger before.

Tamina's stomach churned as she too looked away, her wild accusations falling silent. His screams for her, the way he acted-he had used the dagger over a long period of time. Which could only mean that he had unleashed the Sands. And the only way for him to do that was to have _her_ help. A part of her cried that she would never do such a thing. Help a Persian, help him unleash the Sands? It went against everything she believed. And yet there was no other explanation for what he had done, for the way that he acted around her. Forcing back the panic that flared in her, she looked at the Prince in front of her.

"What happened?" she demanded. His head flew up, eyes locking on her and she held his gaze, "you must tell me what happened," she repeated, her voice edged with panic.

"I-"

"Did i tell you not to tell me?" she questioned, stepping forward. He shook his head, "Dastan my duty is to guard the dagger. Whatever you did, I'll understand. But I need to know what happened."

He looked at her, seemingly torn between telling her and keeping his silence. The haunted look in his eyes seemed to echo with agony now, as if telling his tale would cause him pain. Tamina forced her eyes to remain on his, trying not to blink. She had to know. He had to tell her. She was a part of this, of whatever had happened before he got to the Sands. For her own curiosity as much as for her duty as Guardian, she had to know what happened. Holding his eyes with her own, she reached forward, her hand gently touching his calloused one. He jerked, his body tensing as his eyes flew down to her fingers. When he made to pull his hand away, her fingers tightened on his, preventing him from escaping.

"I-I shouldn't have said anything," he said, his eyes remaining on their hands but he made no move past a half hearted attempt to break her grip.

"Dastan," she said his name firmly. His eyes darted to her before going down, "please," she said, her tone soft.

She didn't know what changed his mind, what made his hand turn slowly in their grip so that instead of her hand holding his, his hand joined with hers. No more than she understood why her heartbeat sped up, her eyes glancing down at their joined hands before flying up to meet his as he looked up at her face. She tried to fix her features into something resembling reassurance, comfort even, but wasn't sure she succeeded. He was silent before he moved her slowly over to the edge of the pool, sitting down. She sat with him, making sure to sweep the gauzy robe she wore out of the way. His hand tightened on hers for a moment before releasing it. Tamina did not understand why her hand suddenly felt chillingly cold, nor why when she cradled it against her lap that did nothing to alleviate the feeling.

"It was my Uncle Nazim's fault," Dastan said, "he wanted the throne for himself. So he forge weapons, said the were from Alamut and convinced my brother Tus to attack. He took over Alamut. Nazim killed my father with a poisoned robe, framed me for what he did. Tus took over the throne but Nazim knew once he got the dagger it was easy to just make it so my father was dead-so that Tus and Garsiv were never born."

His voice faltered as he spoke, his fingers tightening against the fabric of his pants.

"He killed them, right in front of my eyes. The Hassasins got Garsiv but he saved my life before he died. Nazim slit Tus's throat right in front of my eyes. I watched the three of them die and there wasn't anything I could do."

Tamina bit the inside of her cheek. His brothers dead, his father killed, the Empire about to fall into the hands of the man who had done it all. It was enough to break even the strongest of hearts. Her hand reached forward but he spoke before she could touch him. Quickly she grabbed her hand back, meeting his gaze before he once again looked at the ground in front of his feet.

"And then there was you-you and that Gods cursed Dagger," he shook his head and for a moment the smile on his lips was impossibly bitter. But slowly it turned almost fond, "you insisted on getting that thing to the Temple no matter what. Stole it from me more times than I could count and left me for dead more than a few as well," he looked at his hands, the smile not slipping from his face, "and even if I was more miserable than I'd ever been in all my years, you still made me smile."

"And?" Tamina pressed when he fell silent. He glanced at her, "I made you smile? There's more to it than that! You didn't just turn back time for a minute, you did for much longer-"

"Nazim found the Sands, in the catacombs. You led me there-even though you'd already almost died for the Dagger once-and we got to the Sands-" he stopped.

"And I died," she finished, feeling as if she had been dunked in icy waters of the reflecting pool.

Slowly Dastan looked over at her and it was all the conformation she needed. Tamina struggled to her feet, her breath fighting its way out of her lungs. She had died. She had really been dead. The thought was so strange it made her feel as if she was going to really die all over again. All those people dead, the world almost ending and so Dastan had made the only choice that he could. It made a terrible sort of sense and yet she still felt as if she was going to be sick.

"I died," she repeated, turning around to face him, "how did I die?"

"You do-"

"How?"

"You fell," he said, as though confessing a great sin, "I caught you and you but you forced me to let go. Said that I had to stop Nazim and save everyone. Said it was my destiny. And you-" he took a breath, his eyes looking up as they glistened, "you let my wrist go and I couldn't hold onto you."

Tamina stared at him, painfully aware of the stinging in her eyes. Now it truly did make sense. Why he looked at her the way he did, why he always tried to protect her even when there were no threats-why he always awoke screaming her name as if he could save her. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she looked up at the miserable Prince in front of her. She had a terrible feeling that this was the first time he had spoken of what had happened but all the comfort she could give was locked in her throat.

"Did you love me?" she asked, her voice choked as she stared at him. His eyes met hers.

"I think I could've," he answered honestly.

Betrayal made her eyes burn and her throat tight as she stared at him. He had known her, he had known all that had happened and yet in the month that they had been together he had not found the words to tell her. She did not know if she would have found the words to tell him, had their positions been reversed, but she had not been the one to use the Dagger. She did not realize that she had stepped away from him until his eyes widened and he took a step forward, one hand reaching out. But she pulled further away, the idea of him touching her suddenly unbearable. How many times had he touched her before? In what ways? What had transpired between them? How could he know so much and she be so perfectly clueless about what they had shared?

How could he even _think_ about marrying her?

"I-" the words were strangled, "I have to go," she said, turning around and fleeing the gardens.

"Tamina, wait!" he cried, his fingers just brushing her sleeve.

But, once again, he was not strong enough to hold onto her.

She had already slipped away.

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**Okay so as of right now I've got this as a 3-shot. **

**But if you want the next chapter than you guys/gals gotta review! I tend to update the stories that have readers who are interested and the best way to show that is to review! I like alerts and faves but I like reviews way more!**

**So please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Cookies for the people who guess what ****Sadalsuud**** was! For those who wanna know it is a star in Aquarius and translates roughly into "Luck of lucks". **

**Great job you guys! Thanks for the reviews! Here's part 2!**

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Dastan retired to his chambers that night, determined to stay awake.

He had heard from the palace servants that, as per tradition, Tamina would spend the night in contemplation and prayer. He was allowed to sleep. Even though weariness pulled at him he tried to fight it. She knew of his nightmares and even if she had shown she was prepared to go through with the wedding in the morning, he could at least try to make sure her night was peaceful. If that meant being sleepless than so be it. He had gone nights without sleep before.

But before he knew it he had fallen asleep and found himself clinging to the edge of the rock face.

His mind played the deaths of Bis, Gustiv and Tus and his father. Of the helplessness he had felt as each died. As he screamed for help or tried to fix it and found that nothing worked. They died. In perfect turn they died. His father burned, his brother shot through, his other brother slit from ear to ear. And the only thing that united the three deaths was that his Uncle orchestrated them and he bore witness. He remembered everything about them and yet it the one he always relived was Tamina's death.

His hand slipped on the stone as he gripped it, staring down at the Princess grasping his wrist. Even with her blood and sweat and dirt streaking her face she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She down at the chasm below and when she raised her eyes, he already knew what she was planning to do. All her words about destiny, about making sure the world was safe-he had thought he could protect her from making the final sacrifice, like he had in the Temple. But as she looked up at him he realized that he could not do it. He knew she had told him of his destiny, just as he knew what would happen next. But he knew all of it in the back of his mind and he wondered, as he always did, if he held tighter, if he chose to save her over the world, would that be such a bad thing?

"I'm not letting you go!" he shouted to her.

"I wish we could have been together," she told him, honesty in her eyes.

"No," his teeth gritted together, denial coursing through him as blood and sweat made his palm slick.

Even as she opened her hand there was fear in her eyes. Not peace or love or anything. She was scared. He felt sick. She was going to die even as she wept and fought against the instinct to hold onto him. In all his years he was sure it would be the single most selfless act he would ever see. Her eyes locked on his, the fear in her eyes raw and powerful as his fingers tried desperately to tighten on hers. But her hand slipped down his, her fingers sliding through his grip even as he tried to will strength into his hand.

"No-" he protested blindly, as if words could keep her there but her fingers slipped free and suddenly she was falling.

"Dastan!"

"Tamina!"

He bolted upright in bed, the blade of his knife pressing into someone's throat. He could fee the sweat coursing over his body as his heart pounded in his ears, chest struggling to draw a proper breath. His knife usually pressed into air when he woke, as if he could fight away the invisible demons that plagued him. But tonight of all nights, the blade found someone's throat. Someone real and soft and cloaked in gauzy white with crystals braided through their dark locks. Someone who looked at him calmly through kohl lined eyes, as if it was every day that hysterical Prince's pressed blades to their throat. Shaking the sweat out of his eyes, he looked at the woman sitting calmly at his bedside, unable to force words through his fear-clogged throat.

"You really are loud, you know," she told him, making no move towards the dagger on her throat, "really, its a wonder you managed to breach the Walls at all without alerting the entire city."

He stared at her. Gone was the woman who had fled the gardens with tears shining in her eyes. She looked perfectly calm and composed, if not a little angry at him for what he had done. Slowly he forced his muscles to relax as he lowered the knife from her throat, dropping it down to the bed. The smell of incense that clung to her was suddenly overpowering. Without any thought to modesty or rudeness, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and struggled to his feet. He felt as if he was going to be sick. It was too much, too much to relieve that moment when she had died and too much to wake and see her sitting there as if nothing had happened. To know that while he dreamed of loosing her-of loosing everything-ever night, she did not know anything past what he had told her.

Something came at him out of the corner of his eye. Instantly his hand streaked out as he caught the length of fabric she threw at him.

"Get dressed, follow me," she told him.

Dastan looked at the length of fabric before looking up at her.

"I think its a little late for modesty, don't you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow pointedly.

Fighting the urge to grumble about Princesses who didn't know when to leave rooms, Dastan wound the white fabric around his waist. When he turned around she was standing beside the bed, her hands by her sides and no shame on her face at looking at him. She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes unreadable before she turned on her heel and walked over to the door, pulling her hood over her hair as she did. Dastan followed her as she stepped out into the hall, looking both ways before hurrying out into the hallway. Dastan quickly followed her into the deserted hallway.

"Aren't you supposed to be in contemplation and prayer?" he asked.

"As if I could properly contemplate anything after what you said to me," she told him, leading him into a staircase and starting up it. He followed her, his lips silent, "oh stop looking like I killed your puppy," she snapped back at him, "its not as if I've called off the wedding."

She led him high up the stairs, to the very top of the palace and into the room where the Dagger was housed. She walked easily into the room but Dastan lingered in the doorway, his eyes taking in the ornate room. Everything was polished to such a high shine that even when all the torches were out, everything from the white of the floor to the gild on the lamps glimmered bright in the moonlight. The gold and bronze of the room was impossibly bright, the mere wealth in the room enough to send the poor market boy buried somewhere deep inside him reeling. The tabernacle holding the Dagger was closed as well, its contents hidden and a part of him wanted to check to see if the Dagger was actually in there.

"Its in there," Tamina said calmly, as if she could sense what he was about to ask.

Dastan looked at her as she walked to the side of the tabernacle, disappearing behind it. His foot moved forward into the temple, the long fabric he wore sweeping against the ground.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, looking around, trying to catch sight of her.

"My Aunt, the last guardian, used to bring me here," Tamina said to him, stepping out from the shadows of the column, "it is a great honor to be the Guardian of the Dagger," she said, "but the very last thing an eight year old Princess with a penchant for exploring wants to hear is that she there are more reasons to keep her in Alamut."

She had shed the outer cloak she wore, leaving her in a dress of white, edged in deep gold embroidery. The fabric draped her form, leaving one shoulder completely bare of fabric. Her dark hair had been pulled to the side, the ebony locks stark against the warm skin. Dastan looked down. The henna on her hands and feet was much more ornate than he had previously seen, though his eyes picked out the familiar star that lay at the heart of the design. She was silent through his inspection. Belately he dragged his eyes back to her face.

"This is the heart of Alamut," she said, "the first structure built after the Gods placed the Sands under the city. The rest of the city came to be around this place."

Dastan looked at her and Tamina returned his gaze, waiting patiently for him to move. Slowly he stepped fully into the temple, his gaze moving around the room. Sadness filled his gaze and she wondered who had died here. When he moved fully into the room the lines of his body were hard, tense even and she knew that if he had a weapon it would be drawn. He entered the room as if he expected the shadows to come alive and attack him. Hands folded in front of her, Tamina waited in front of the tabernacle, looking every inch the Princess and Guardian she was. Slowly Dastan walked forward until he stood in front of her.

"Why did you come into my room?" he asked, "and why did you bring me to this place?"

Tamina looked down.

She had been prepared to walk by his room without a second thought. After what he told her the least he deserved was a night filled with nightmares. She was supposed to be in prayer and contemplation but she had slipped out. It was impossible to have a blank mind or even a semi-organized one when all she could think of was what Dastan had told her. She was troubled by it, by the fact that she had died, by the fact that in all that had happened _he_ was the only one who remembered anything about it. She hated that even though she had heard him scream for her before, when he cried out for her in the gardens it had been the one time she had almost wept at the tone of his voice.

When she had walked by his room she had listened in. She heard him thrashing and muttering names. The name of his friend, his brothers names, his father's names-all full of sadness and loss. She had opened the door when she had heard him deny something, his tone full of anger. When she entered the room he was no longer thrashing on his bed but she imagined if he gripped the pillows a little tighter they would tear apart in his fingers. He looked so tortured as he turned his head from side to side, caught in a vision of a time that no longer even existed that her plan to leave him to the nightmares stopped. She had barely been in his room for a minute when he bolted upright in bed, screaming her name. She had been too shocked to react when his knife found her throat.

But it was the way he looked that made up her mind.

The man who had sat before her then and stood before her now was a man who had lost everything he had ever loved and found the strength to go on. A man who had saved the world twice. A man who had done so much and yet was the only one who remembered what had happened. It was a great honor to use the Dagger, Guardians and Priests trained for its burdens and yet a Prince had managed to escape the madness that followed. He had opened the hourglass and lived to tell the tale-a tale that no-one would believe. Tamina knew that if it had been another man-if it had been any other man-she would do everything in her power to make sure that he was alright. But because Dastan had been her future husband, because the time he remembered included her, she had turned her back on him. It was not right, nor was it fair. Not to him and, strangely, not to her.

Slowly she looked up and met his gaze with her own, doing her best to convey calmness and serenity in the way her Aunt had taught her. The man in front of her did not look like the kind of King Alamut needed. Nor did he even look like the type of man who could save the world and bear the burdens of the Dagger.

And it was her fault.

Partially from what she could understand, totally from what he had hinted at. She had used him to get the Dagger to safety-as any good Guardian would. But from the way he looked at her she had done much more than that. _They_ had done much more than that. There had been a them, a pair, and it was broken. She knew she could not take all the credit for that. Even if the idea of her dying in the name of the world was unsettling, it was something she had been trained to do. But for whatever reason, Dastan had held his silence of what happened. Perhaps because he thought it would protect her. Perhaps for some other reason she did not understand. Like everything else to do with the Dagger, things were not simple, they were chaotic and messy.

"Why didn't you tell me what happened between us?" Tamina asked. He looked away, "Dastan-"

"What was I supposed to say?" he demanded, turning to look at her, "I was so relieved that everyone was safe-that you were alive-that I didn't think anything else mattered. I though-" he shook his head, "i thought that would be enough."

"You've been having nightmares from the first night you spent in the palace."

"I'm a warrior of Persia, I was a street rat before that. Nightmares are something I can deal with," he said.

"Then what can you not deal with?" she demanded, pushing past the defensiveness in his tone, "because from the looks of it you aren't dealing with it very well."

"I'm dealing with it fine," he said taking a step back.

"Oh really? Is that why you look as though you can barely stand?" she questioned, walking forward.

"You woke me in the middle of the night!"

"You woke yourself," she said, coming to a halt when she was right in front of him, almost toe to toe. Looking up at him, she continued, "I am the Dagger's guardian, I can help you."

"I don't need help," he said, looking at her stubbornly.

Tamina opened her mouth to tell him just how wrong he was when she realized just how close they were standing. He had leaned forward and she had as well. Now they were close enough for her to see each individual eyelash that lined his eyes. To feel his breath touch her cheek as he looked at her. In spite of everything she found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. They had kissed before, he had implied as much, but she could not remember. What would it be like now, to close the distance between them and touch her lips to his? His eyes searched her face, looking for something unknown to her.

She was not sure if she moved first or if he did. If it was longing on his part or curiosity on hers. All she knew was that when his lips touched hers, it felt as if lightening raced across her skin. In the first breath he was gentle, hesitant even, as if he could not believe what was happening and she found that it was a confusion she shared. But in the next his lips were desperate against hers. She was surprised at how easily her lips parted, her mouth joining his as his hands pulled her tighter against his chest. He kissed her like a drowning man searching for oxygen, like a dead man clinging to life-like one who had once lost everything only to have it all returned. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and in spite of everything that had transpired between them she felt her knees weaken at his touch.

And just as quickly as the kiss had stared, it stopped.

Dastan tore his lips away from hers, leaving her feeling weak and cold as the heat of his body vanished.

"No-" he staggered back, one hand moving up as if to defend himself, "Gods, I never should have-" the words were staggered, harsh, "I'm so sorry."

Tamina slowly opened her eyes, looking up at him. He looked half mad in the light of the moon. She could see the red skin where her fingers had dug into his arms, just as she could feel the throb of her lips from where he had kissed her. And now he was apologizing for what he had done. Tamina blinked, fighting the urge to reach up and press a hand to her lips or straiten her hair. Instead she forced herself to look at him.

"Sorry for what?" she demanded, finding her voice at last, "if you're going to be sorry every time you kiss me, this is going to be a very strange marriage don't you think?"

"How can you even think about marrying me?" he demanded, staring at her, "knowing what you know-"

"I know that you saved the world, save all the people in Alamut-you saved your father, your friend, your brothers-you saved me Dastan," she shoved any doubt she had aside, "if I am to marry, why would I not want to marry a man as Noble as that?"

He stared at her. Even in complimenting him her voice held the same edge that he had become accustom to hearing in her tone. She said Nobility as if Persian Nobility was something not to be taken seriously. That was Tamina. It was so confusing it made his head spin. Everything was all muddled. It was not as if the woman who he had lost was somehow different than the woman standing in front of him, it was not two sides of the same coin. It was not as simple as that. She was Tamina. And when her lips had touched his, it had been as if nothing had changed between them. The heat that raced through him was the same, the feeling of needing her to be closer, tighter, totally against him-all that was the same. He did not know what to think.

"Because I-I-" he began.

She drew herself up.

"I-I-" she repeated in an imitation of him, "tell me this, Dastan, were you kissing me or the woman you lost?" she asked.

He was silent, his hands falling to his sides and she slowly moved forward, closing the distance between them. He watched her but for once he made no move to put space between them. He stood as she approached and only when she was within an arm's reach did he speak.

"I don't know," he told her, his voice barely more than a whisper, "half the time I can't tell the difference."

"Thats because we're the same, Dastan," she said, "the people you saw-the place you saw-all of it is the same. Your Uncle was still a traitor, your brother a King-and I am still the Guardian of the Dagger. Your burden is a terrible one but I can _help_ you, Dastan," she reached forward, grasping his hand, "let me help you."

His eyes went to their joined hands. She looked down, following his gaze with her own. The hand that held hers was rough, it was the hand of a warrior-of a great man. Her hand was soft, ornate with the Henna that marked her as a bride. And yet she was acutely aware of just how perfectly his hand fit with hers. She was the Guardian, she had to help him. Even if she still, somewhere, had her own doubts they did not matter. Not now. Not when the man in front of her seemed moments from breaking apart. He had told no-one else of what happened, of that she was sure. But he could not keep holding it inside.

"It wouldn't matter," he said, his eyes remaining on their hands, his voice still soft, "I'd still see it-" he trailed off into silence.

"See what?" she prodded gently.

"I keep seeing it," he repeated, his hand moving away from hers, "over and over again and there's _nothing_ I can do," he stopped, furious, "there's nothing i can do to save any of them."

"You already saved them Dastan," she said, "your brothers, your father, your kingdom-even me. We are all here because of you."

"Then why do I keep seeing all of you die?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone.

Angrily he looked away, his lip catching between his teeth as if he had admitted some great secret. Slowly she reached out, cupping his cheek in her hand. For a moment his entire body tensed, as if instead of a light touch she had stuck him. But the moment passed and his body seemed to relax. His eyes closed as he inhaled raggedly. It looked as if he was breaking apart in front of her. Tamina did not force his gaze to her, rather she simply prevented him from looking further away. Almost on instinct his face turned into her palm, his hot breath sending chills up her wrist.

"Let it go, Dastan," she whispered, her thumb gently rubbing his cheekbone, "there is no future in the time you saw."

As if her words had somehow freed him, he collapsed to his knees in front of her. Her hand dropped to her side as his pulled her tightly against him-as though she was the only real thing in all the world. After a moment, Tamina wrapped her arms around his shoulders as his body shook with emotion, his tears soaking the front of her gown. His fingers dug into her skin through the fabric of her gown but she gave no thought to the bruises they would leave. All her other questions that she still wanted to ask were pushed aside as she held him the best she could. Nothing mattered but the man who held onto her as he wept- who clung to her as if she was the breath of life itself.

As she held him Tamina realized that this was probably the first time he had let his emotions show. In the short time she had known him she had seen how much his family had meant to him. The loss he had suffered was unimaginable and yet he had been determined to bear the burden alone. Every night for a month he had watched the people he loved die and not breathed a word to any of them. She hated that he had held it inside for so long-that he had said nothing for so long. But her anger did not change anything. Not now. Not on the eve of her wedding to the man who wept in her arms. Tamina closed her eyes and bowed her head, focusing only on the Prince who had saved the world, only to shattered in her arms.

"Its alright, Dastan," she told him, her voice soft, "I'm here. Its alright."

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her mind wondering if that would be enough.

"I'm here."

* * *

**Sorry, couldn't resist. **

**Okay so yeah, lemme explain. **

**There seems to be some tentative interest in a longer Prince of Persia fic. At first I was like "oh hell no, last thing i need is another epic" but then I realized that I not only liked the movie, but I liked the couple. **

**Then I was talking to a friend who pointed out that if there's one thing Disney can do its make some damn good bad guys. **

**So here's what we're gonna do. **

**Go to my profile, there's a poll that's up there that ask if you want a longer, elaborate PoP fic or if you want it shorter. VOTE guys. If you want a longer fic let me know. You're opinion will influence my decision! You have until monday or tuesday when I update this fic because as of the next chapter its gonna have to branch out. So vote!**

**Now its up to you to review! I know I know I should be like-well, whatever. I want reviews. And you want an update. So this becomes a mutually beneficial relationship! You review, I update and everyone's happy! Oh and if you're super lazy (like me) you can gimme your vote in your review. **

**So please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hot damn you guys want a longer fic!**

**Okay! **

**So thank you for all your votes/pms/reviews. You've spoken and I'll listen! Lets get this epic underway!**

* * *

"That Dagger is more trouble than its worth."

Tamina turned her head to look at Dastan. They had wound up sitting side by side with their backs against one of the closest ornate columns. Dastan's eyes were red and swollen from his emotional outburst and even though she knew she was in a slightly better state, Tamina still felt exhaustion tug at her. She had never been terribly good at the rituals that required one to remain up all night. And now after what had happened she had a feeling that it would be impossible to remain awake all night-bad luck or not. She would have to be up at dawn anyway to get ready for the wedding ceremony and ensuing feast. It was enough to make even the most trained Princess cringe. But suddenly it seemed as if the ensuing nuptials were the least of her problems.

"Dastan," Tamina looked at him, "have you told anyone about what happened?"

His gaze trailed over and locked on hers. Slowly he shook his head. He had not breathed a word of what he had seen to anyone. There hadn't seemed to be a need. His uncle had proven himself to be a traitor and a search of his rooms had produced enough of Hashish to link him to the remaining cell of Hassassins. He had asked to lead the search party but both Tus and his father had been adamant that his wedding came first, then he could go charging off to wherever he wanted. It had seemed that everything was taken care of, he had not thought to speak of what had happened to any of them. He was sure they would think him mad or worse if he told them what had happened in the time not passed.

"I didn't," he said, "I didn't think it was important. And after what happened with my Uncle, they've got enough to worry about as it is."

Tamina nodded but the doubt in her eyes did not go away. Dastan let out a breath, half sure of what she was going to say. He knew he should tell his father and his brothers what had happened. But things had moved so quickly it had been easy to find reasons why he should not-the least of which was his Uncle. Nazim had proven himself to be a traitor after the throne. It had broken his father's heart to know his brother had been so intent on the throne. Dastan couldn't find the words or the heart to tell his father just how far his brother had been willing to go to destroy him. Tamina held his gaze with her own.

"I know I have to tell them," he said with a groan.

"You don't think they'll take the news well?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Tus might-but I doubt his beads'll make it through the news. Garsiv is never going to let me live down that I took his horse. And my father-" Dastan hesitated, "he loved Nazim like Nazim claimed to love him."

Tamina was silent. It was on her tongue to ask if he thought of using the Dagger in the same way. Or if his brother had thought to gain the throne through the same means. But the inquiry died on her tongue. If Dastan had any thoughts of taking the throne they were eclipsed by his horror at watching his brother's die. Garsiv might have thought to do the same with the Dagger but if he loved his brother half as much as Dastan did, he would not do such a thing. She saw no threat to the Dagger in them, not after what had transpired. She wondered if they had been curious as to why Dastan looked half dead on his feet, but perhaps warriors of Persia did not speak of such things-even if they were brothers. Dastan's eyes left hers to look out the window. He looked calmer after letting his emotions show but she could see he was still troubled by what had happened and that he would be for some time.

"If you need my help in telling them, I will be there," she said. His eyes flew back to hers, widening in surprise, "I can explain what the Dagger does and while I may lack your stutter and eccentric hand gestures, I can probably explain it better than you."

Surprise ebbed, replaced with a glint of humor in his eyes. Tamina felt her spine straighten against the stone as she held his gaze. When his lips curved into a smile she angrily opened her mouth to tell him that she did not appreciate being mocked or laughed at but before she could get the words out he held his hands up in a gesture of surrender before turning to face her.

"You know, for a moment back there i thought you were going soft on me," he said, "and you're right," he continued as her lips clamped shut, "you can probably explain that thing better than me."

"That _thing_-as you so put it-is a gift from the Gods," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Troublesome gift," he said, "do all your Gods give such presents?"

"Yes," she said hotly, rising to the bait, "and if you are going to be my husband you will have to learn to respect the gifts the Gods give us."

"If I'm going to be? Are you reconsidering?"

"I am doing no such thing!" she objected before lowering her voice, "in spite of all that you have told me you are everything that my people need in a King."

"Our people, Tamina, and if we're going to get married you'll have to get used that."

Tamina opened her mouth to retort that he was being an idiot when she realized that there was a certain truth to his words. His words and her own. They were going to have to figure out a way to unite their people and it was not as if there was a history of peace between their two kingdoms. As she looked up at him, Tamina wondered if moving closer had been a part of their fights back in the time that only he remembered. He certainly did not seem to have a problem invading her personal space and while she knew there were a hundred reasons as to why she leaned closer when they argued, the fact remained that she felt no discomfort reciprocating the action. He had turned to look at her, his body angling towards hers. She had turned so that she was actually facing him completely, her eyes boring into him. They were close enough once more that she could see the few lines on his face, the scar on his cheek, the indent of his lips where he had bitten them. His eyes left hers to glance at her lips before returning to her face.

"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper, "if we are to be married we'll have to get to used to that as well."

Dastan looked at her, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. Once more the smell of incense that clung to her filled his nose. But this time he did not feel the same desperate ache that he had. The longing was still there, as was the heat that twisted through him, but it was no longer tinged with bitterness. He saw her eyes sweep over his face, pausing as his lips before meeting his eyes once more. Time, that terrible, life changing force, seemed to slow to a halt as he looked at her. It was like standing on the tip of a tower, balanced perfectly on the edge, knowing that the next move you made could send you either to safety or plunging to your death. There were a thousand thoughts that went through his head and yet when he leaned forward he found that his mind was blissfully blank.

There was no urgency or desperation in the kiss, making it decidedly different from both times they had previously done it. Every sensation from the softness of her lips to the spices that clung to her tongue was heightened. She was not hesitant as she kissed him, her lips easily reciprocating every touch and taste. This time though the hand that touched his upper arm was soft, not bruising. She did not cling to him desperately, her touch was anything but. She was soft and warm and real and for a moment he wondered if he would weep again at the sensation of it. When she slowly pulled back, her lips seemed to linger against his, the touch so light and teasing he half wondered if he imagined it.

"You should go."

Dastan opened his eyes to see her face a breath from his. She looked as though she wanted to say anything else, but there was no mistaking her words. He frowned, opening his mouth to voice his confusion when her face broke into a smile.

"I'm supposed to be in contemplation. Adventures or no, if they find you here we could face a war before our wedding."

Relief crashed through him at her words. Tamina almost laughed outright at the expression on his face, though it was quickly overtaken by one that said he wanted to do anything but leave her alone in the temple-though whether that was nobility or lust on his part, she did not know.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be released until dawn," he said, "and I think we've established you're unguarded."

"So you want to stay to guard me now?" she asked with an amused smile.

"Well someone's got to," he said, "I know how trouble seems to follow it."

"The Dagger is not followed by trouble," she said.

"I was actually referring to its Guardian," he said.

Tamina fought the urge to grin like an idiot. He really was charming, a bit rough around the edges but that only seemed to serve to make him even more so. She had always thought that when she did marry it would be to a snooty Prince who was more in love with himself than with her. She did not know Dastan well enough to decide if she loved him, but the hours before her wedding were certainly turning out far better than she could have anticipated. But she had meant her words. No matter what had transpired between them, they were not married. And if he was caught in the temple before being her husband, he would be viewed with suspicion. If he was caught with _her_ in the temple before being her husband, then that was going to open a whole other can of worms. After a moment's contemplation, Tamina pushed herself to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Dastan asked, getting to his knees as she walked over to the tabernacle holding the Dagger. Walking to the side, she reached down and lifted up one of the shallow ornate bowls of scented and blessed oil. Carefully she turned around to find him on his feet, looking at her curiously, "Tamina?"

"You are going to have to go back to your room," she said, walking carefully forward so as not to spill the contents, "and we are facing a three day feast," he looked at her, obviously not understanding what she was saying, "I'm not going to be there to wake you up again tonight and its not as if I can marry myself tomorrow, so I need you to be at least alert."

"And the oil's going to help?" he asked, looking at the shallow bowl.

"The blessing I am going to give you will," she said, stopping in front of him. He looked from the oil to her, "will you accept?"

"The blessing?" she looked at him with exasperation, "alright," he nodded.

"Hold out your hands."

Trying not to feel too ridiculous, Dastan obeyed. Tamina dipped her fingers into the bowl of oil. The perfume reached his nose, almost a perfect match for the smell that clung to her. She reached out and pressed her fingers to the center of his palm, her touch impossibly light. Slowly she drew her fingers out. In the moonlight he could see the shape take form, the star on his palm a match for the one on that served as the center of the design on her own. She graced his other palm with the same star before she reached up and drew the design on his forehead. Finally she dipped her fingers into the oil once more and drew the stare over his heart. He watched her each time, his eyes tracing the designs as she drew them. He felt the oil warm his skin, though each time her fingers left him he felt oddly cold. When she was done with the blessing, she reached up and touched her fingers to his head, closing her eyes as she held the bowl of oil between them.

Though he had watched her carefully, Dastan let his eyes close when she did. The smell of oil, the perfume that she and the blessing on his skin shared, filled his nose. He did not know if it was her words, his emotion, the blessing of being less burdened or exhaustion but for whatever reason the knot that had been tight in his chest loosened. Peace crept through him as he stood in front of the Guardian of the Dagger, his palms spread as the oil and her blessing filled him. She did not speak, seeming not to need words to intone the blessing. The silence that stretched between them was infinite and impossibly calm. He felt as if he could stand there forever.

Slowly her fingers withdrew from his scalp. Dastan slowly opened his eyes. The first thing that he saw was the bowl of oil cradled in her palms. The surface of the oil was disturbed, as if she had dipped her fingers into it before holding it in both hands. Slowly the surface of the oil stilled. In its surface Dastan saw his face reflected back at him, the lines of tension he had been carrying had smoothed out, revealing a man who looked impossibly more peaceful. Reflected over him he could see the star Tamina had drawn on him, the star drawn on her, the star worked ornately into the ceiling of the temple. Dastan stared at himself in the oil before he let his eyes rise to Tamina. Her head was bowed, her eyes closed as she held the bowl. She looked more statue than woman, only the rise and fall of her chest showed her to be alive.

Her head rose to look at him before she opened her eyes. There was peace in her gaze as well, as though she had truly spoken to the Gods as she closed her eyes. Dastan did not know if that was true or not, but the peace that seemed to have filled him was undeniable.

"How-"

"Goodnight, Dastan," she said.

He opened his mouth but she only offered a serene smile and he knew he would get not more answers from her that night.

When he got the temple doors he turned around. She had managed to silently cross the temple to the tabernacle and set the bowl at its closed doors. Without so much as faltering she backed over to the bottom of the steps and knelt down. Of the entire experience the fact that she managed to be quite so quiet was what he found to be the most strange. He watched her for a moment before turning around and walking out of the temple. His feet took him down the stairs and into the main hallway, though his mind seemed to be a million miles away. He made his way back to his rooms, managing to avoid the few servants he saw walking the hallways. Slipping into his room, he closed the door behind him. His bed was still unmade from when he had thrashed in his nightmares, the knife glimmering on its sheets.

The pull to sleep was suddenly undeniably strong. Half formed thought of once again trying not to sleep vanished as he all but staggered towards the bed. He barely had the strength to move his knife from the top of the sheets to underneath his pillow before he fell against the softness of the bed. He did not even bother to take off the white fabric around his waist as his body collapsed against the softness. The smell of the incense that clung to Tamina filled his nose and before he could quite figure out what had happened, he had given into the pull of sleep.

For the first time in a month, Dastan did not dream of death.

Nor did he wake screaming, though his wake up was hardly much better.

Something was tickling his nose.

Dastan snorted, tossing his head in an effort to get whatever was tickling him to stop but it continued. Feigning sleep, Dastan reached up under his pillow intent on getting out his knife, only to find it was not there. Which could only mean that there was one person on the other end of the feather. Eyes snapping open, Dastan shot upright in bed, one hand making to grab the wrist that held the damn thing. He was fast, but, sadly, so was his brother who held the feather aloft and decidedly out of Dastan's reach. Dastan glared as Garsiv threw his head back and laughed loudly at his brother's furious expression.

"Damn it that is the first real sleep I've had in a month!"

"And how peaceful you looked," Garsiv told him through whoops of mirth, "but, sadly, its time to wake. You do have to look at least half like a Prince on your wedding day."

"I do do I?" Dastan demanded, "I seem to remember you looking more like a drunken fool than a Prince on yours."

"Oh little brother," Garsiv sighed, "as you will come to learn, second weddings don't matter."

Dastan opened his mouth to voice his intention of having this be his only wedding but was cut off.

"That's enough," Tus said, stopping his brothers before they could argue further and redirecting their gaze to him, "you've had your fun," he said to Garsiv before he looked at Dastan, "this is your first wedding and we do need you looking Princely-" he paused, taking in the fabric around his brother's waist, "and preferably clothed."

Tus turned his back as Garsiv leaned forward.

"Don't be fooled," he hissed, "who do you think gave me the feather?"

"You two have been doing this since I first got to the palace," Dastan said, "I know who gave you the feather."

"Just trying to make you feel at home, little brother," Garsiv said getting to his feet as Dastan rolled his eyes, "now lets get you scrubbed."

Dastan looked down at his hands. Oil no longer glistened there and he was sure that if he were to look at his forehead it would be dry as well. When Garsiv's back was turned, Dastan lifted his palm to his face. Only the barest scent of Tamina's oils clung to his skin. A part of him wondered if he was supposed to wash the blessing off but the rest of him knew that she was aware of the impossible preparation that would go into getting them both ready for the wedding. Sighing the young Prince pushed himself to his feet and looked at his brothers.

"Do your worst."

Hours later as his one of the servants did up the final buttons on his robe, Dastan regretted those words immensely.

He had been poked and plucked and scrubbed and dunked in more hot water than he was sure he had ever seen in his life. He didn't think he had been so thoroughly cleaned since he first came to the palace and his new 'brothers' had insisted on giving him a bath. Of course Princes knew no more of bathing other people than he did and wound up simply throwing buckets of hot water on him until Garsiv loudly pronounced that he smelt somewhat better. Now there had been servants and scrub brushes and even though he had tried his wedding cloths on before, Dastan felt impossibly more ridiculous in them-something that only seemed to amuse Garsiv and Tus more.

"Don't look so sickened," Garsiv said, "its just a wedding."

"I look like a fool," Dastan said, staring at the man in the mirror, "this wedding starts at noon-I am going to reflect the sun and blind everyone!"

"Don't be stupid, you're not that clean," Garsiv shot back.

Dastan glared at him before looking back at the mirror. His wedding cloths were fit for a Prince. Just as every inch of skin underneath had been scrubbed and cleaned, every inch of fabric that covered him was weighted with embroidery. Everything from the high collar to the buttons was stitched with enough silver, gold and bronze thread to feed a family for a month. His face had been cleaned and shaven once more, the scar on his cheek standing stark against his skin. His pulled back hair also seemed strange, though he had made it very clear that he was not going to be wearing anything in the way of a headdress. As he stared at himself Garsiv let out a yawn and stretched dramatically.

"Well I'll be waiting outside," he said, departing the room.

Dastan looked at him departing and knew there was only one thing that could get him out so quickly. Turning his head he looked at his other brother. Tus stood by the window, fingers playing with the beads he always carried. Beads that Dastan remembered grabbing as he ran down to stop Nazim and save the world. Even in death his brother had looked every inch a King. Now as he stood by the window, dressed formally for his brother's wedding, Dastan wondered if he would ever look half as Noble as the rest of his family seemed too. The uneasiness churned in his stomach still but he was silent as the sound of the beads filled the silence of the room before Tus spoke.

"I still remember the day father came back from the market with you," he said, his voice holding the smile Dastan could not see, "you looked so young and frightened when father brought you to us. Do you remember the first words Garsiv said to you?"

"He said I smelled so bad he hoped father at least haggled for a good price," Dastan said.

"Neither of us could understand what father saw in you, not then," Tus continued, turning around to look at Dastan, "but you were so bold, so stubborn, you refused to let us make you feel as if you didn't belong. Father commanded our respect from birth but to this day I am certain you were the first person who ever earned it from us."

Dastan watched as Tus walked forward, closing the distance between the two of them.

"You repeated the words that father told to me before we came here," he said.

"A king listens to council but follows his heart," Dastan replied, knowing the words as well as if they had been burned into his brain.

"I have seen how troubled you have been," Tus said, "Garsiv has as well. Things have been chaotic, with the death of our Uncle and news of his betrayal."

Dastan nodded. Fear tightened his throat. He wanted to tell Tus now, wanted to make sure that his brother knew everything. But he could not. Not when they were moments from leaving for his wedding. He needed time to tell them, time to explain, time to convince his brothers that he was not a raving lunatic. Time that he did not have at the moment. Life had been chaotic in the past month and yet he was still surprised by the guilt he saw in Tus's eyes. They had come a long way from the boys who had wondered if their father hadn't overpaid for the smelly orphan he brought back from the marketplace.

"Follow your heart, Dastan," Tus said, "and if it is telling you to run, I can open a window."

Dastan smiled at his brother's words. He had no doubt. Alliance depending on the marriage or no, Tus would open a window and help him escape. If he asked nicely Garsiv might even give him his horse for a speedy getaway. But Dastan knew he was not going anywhere. Even if he was not half in love with the woman he was about to marry, he would wed her. He was not a Prince by blood, but he was a Prince of Persia none the less. Reaching out he clasped his brother's forearm.

"No windows will be necessary," he said.

"Very well," Tus said, "then lets get you married. I don't think Garsiv will wait much longer to get to the wine."

"Then by all means, lets get Garsiv to his wine."

Together the two stepped out of the room, heading into the hallway. Servants and members of the household were running about, taking care of last minute preparations as quietly and quickly as they could. Turning his head, Dastan looked towards the staircase, wondering if Tamina was still in the temple or if they had already gotten her downstairs to where they would be wed. Garsiv looked around before shaking his head at the people running around. Looking over at the window he raised an eyebrow. Dastan frowned and joined him at the window along with Tus. Suddenly the fragment of peace he had vanished as he looked down at the cheering crowds spread out below the palace.

Cheering crowds of people who had come out for _his_ wedding.

"Will you look at that! It looks like this is going to be a royal wedding after all," Garsiv said with a grin as Dastan fought the urge to be sick, "the entire city must be out there!"

"Just breathe through your nose," Tus advised.

"Yes because we don't have time to clean you up if you're sick now," Garsiv supplied.

As Dastan stared out at the crowds, fighting the urge to be sick by breathing through his nose as Tus had advised, the crowd erupted into even louder cheers. But unlike the simple cheering of before, they now cheered a name. It took the voices a moment to unite, for the name to become one he could understand.

Tamina.

They cheered her name as their beloved Princess, Priestess and Guardian of the Dagger. They had caught a glimpse of her, or perhaps she had let herself be seen but the crowds roared for her. Dastan took a deep breath through his nose, letting the urge to be sick go as he looked at his brothers before pushing himself away from the balcony.

"Lets go," he said, "before I'm late to my own wedding."

"Oh Dastan, ever early," Garsiv teased, "here's some advice for your wedding night: don't be that."

Choking on his own spit, Dastan swore and coughed as both his brothers whooped with laughter at his scarlet face.

They were barely composed by the time they reached the doors that would lead them to Dastan's wedding. After a quick straitening of clothing and smoothing of hair, the three faced the door, prepared to see the youngest Prince wed. The cheers increased tenfold, as if the crowd could sense what was about to happen. The massive doors in front of them swung open, leading them to the first part of the ceremony.

Without any hesitation, the Princes of Persia stepped inside.

The doors swung shut behind them.

* * *

**Next time its wedding time! **

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	4. Chapter 4

**Okay guys! Wedding time!**

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All the ceremony and preparation in the world could not have prepared Dastan for his own wedding.

He had bore witness to Tus's four marriages and Garsiv's three, standing there as a brother and Prince should. He had been instructed in what his own wedding would be like, Persian customs dominating to show Tamina's obedience to her husband-to him. He knew what would happen, what would be said, what would occur. He knew the role he would play so well that he could do it in his sleep. He had wondered why they made him practice so many times, until his head spun with strange words, never understanding the need of it. But when Tamina entered and pulled back the veil covering her features, he understood.

Because for the life of him he could not speak.

Tamina was breathtaking in a way he had never seen a woman be. The crystals that had graced the front of her locks now decorated every inch of her hair. The ornate henna on her hands and feet was decorated further with gold and from what Dastan could see the rest of her was covered in soft gold dust as well. The kohl on her eyes was darker, making her seem even more like a Guardian and a Priestess than before. The cloth that draped her was the white and gold he was used to seeing her in but now red also swirled with the ornate embroidery. Gold and silver jewelry shone on her wrists and ankles and fingers. If she disliked any of the elaborate clothing she wore, it did not show on her face. Tamina, it seemed, was a master of the serene expression.

The ceremony itself passed in a blur. Dastan barely remembered the words they exchanged. No-one laughed outright so he imagined he stumbled his way through the ceremony with enough grace not to offend anyone-though for the life of him he couldn't figure out how he had managed to pull that one off. The ceremony required very little in the way of Tamina speaking but when she spoke her voice was steady and calm, as if she endured ceremonies like this on a regular basis. Which, Dastan supposed, she very well might have. What her feelings were on the matter, he did not know but when his father clapped his hands together and the ceremony came to an end, Dastan all but collapsed with sheer relief that it was over. Then he realized that he and Tamina were married and suddenly he wanted to collapse for an entirely different reason.

While it seemed as though the rest of the gathered people thought he was fine, Tamina seemed to think it was a near miracle they had made it through the ceremony in one piece. As they were ushered hand in hand down the hallway to the balcony where they would greet the people of the city-where they would greet _their_ people Dastan wondered if he really was going to be sick. Fighting armies, saving worlds, turning back time itself, all of that was easy in comparison to facing and greeting all the people he had seen outside the palace.

"You look as if you are going to be sick," Tamina hissed to him.

"Did i mention I'm crap at this sort of thing?" he asked with a faint smile.

"I inferred as much from your proposal," Tamina said, "don't say anything. And breath through your nose," she glanced around before dropping her voice, "and try to remember that these people do not know you saved them from an Armageddon. They do think you invaded their city so try to make a good impression."

"Smile and wave?"

"Smile and wave."

Weakly he nodded as the doors opened and the roar of the crowd became truly deafening.

Later on when Dastan looked back on his wedding day, he would say it was characterized by four things: noise, color, spices and Tamina. The first three blended together into a deafening symphony that had him half wishing he was deaf, blind and tasteless. The fourth, however, oh the fourth, seemed to be the only thing he could see with clarity. Looking at her one would not have thought the events of the past day had happened-anymore than they would think she was marrying a man she had met when his brother disobeyed his father's order not to invade her city. She was perfectly composed, the very epitome of a new bride. She seamlessly spoke to his brothers and father, to their wives, to everyone who she encountered with such grace it made his head spin. Dastan was sure that she had everyone fooled much better than he did.

But she didn't fool him.

He could see the way her fists curled, hidden by the fabric of her sleeves. He saw the way her lips pressed together when people turned away and how when someone laid their hand on her she looked as if she was physically forcing herself not to backhand them. He knew he was exhausted from the scrubbing and decorating and he had both gotten a good night's sleep _and_ endured a fraction of what it had taken to transform Tamina from Princess to Goddess. He had no doubt she would make it through the entire feast without her facade slipping, she was that good at playing the Princess. But he had been sneaking out of these things as long as she had been attending them. Glancing around, his eyes found Bis who, thankfully, was not too drunk yet. Hurrying over, Dastan placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Cover for me," he said.

Bis twisted around but Dastan had already slipped through the crowd to where Tamina was sitting being spoken at by two of Tus's wives. Second wives, who looked at the Princess with something less than kindness. Moving quickly so his path was clear, Dastan made his way over to where she was seated. The two wives sitting by her looked surprised at his approach but Tamina was too lost in her misery to even hear him approaching until he was behind her. Crouching down, Dastan looked at the three of them.

"Sorry," he said, "but I need to borrow my wife."

Without waiting for a reply he offered a hand to Tamina who immediately placed hers in his. He got to his feet and helped her to hers, the weight of her jewelry enough to make the process awkward. They managed and he led her through the crowd, his eyes finding an unguarded archway. He pulled her towards that, weaving through the ornate passageway that stretched before them. He had no idea where they were going, only that it was not the wedding and therefore had to be immediately better than the place that they left.

"Dastan where are we going?" Tamina asked, though she gave no attempt to get out of his grip other than a half hearted tug of her wrist, "we are going to have to be present at things like this."

"Yeah," he said glancing at her, "but we can slip away for a minute," he looked up ahead, surprised to see that the hallway widened into the same courtyard she had first led him to when he presented her with the dagger. He turned to face the fountain, "told you, I'm crap at ceremonies."

"Well they are rarely like this," Tamina said, coming to stand beside him at the fountain's edge, "but then while you are allowed to marry several times, I am only to marry once."

Dastan looked at her, surprised to hear the edge of bitterness in her voice before belatedly realizing that people had probably spent the entire day telling the exhausted Princess that she was very lucky to be Dastan's first wife-implying that there would be more to follow in her wake.

"You really think I'll marry another after you?" he asked.

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Well won't you?"

"No!" he said, shocked she'd believe such a thing. Tamina looked as if she clearly didn't believe him, "my brother's married for alliances and arrangements. Not for love."

Tamina looked up at him. Nights of contemplation meant no sleep and those were hard enough without emotionally distraught Princes and hours spent wondering what had transpired between them during a time that did not exist anymore. Between the preparation and the strange wedding ceremony and being accosted by wives who told her how fortunate she was to be the first bride even to the youngest Prince, Tamina was moments from unwrapping one of the many many layers of silk and strangling herself with it. She had performed her duty as a Priestess, pushing aside her own need in order to see to that of the man who had saved the world. But as she stared helplessly into the fountain, Tamina wondered if she should not have insisted they postpone the wedding.

"Love?" she repeated, looking at him, "do you think you love me?" she asked, locking eyes with him.

"I think I like you a great deal more than either of my brothers liked their wives," he replied.

Tamina turned to the fountain. To her great shame she felt tears prick her eyes for no reason. The day was somehow both wonderful and miserable. Miserable because she was married to a man she did not truly know or love. She had fully accepted that and had expected her wedding day to be nothing short of miserable. And yet the day was still oddly wonderful because while she did not know if she loved Dastan, she could say that she liked him. Certainly that she liked him more than she had thought she would like her husband in the beginning of their marriage. She did not know what to think of anything anymore. She was at her best when she was helping others, when she was acting in the role that she had been trained for. But she had no idea how to act in the situation she found herself in.

Her misery must have shown on her face because Dastan quickly spoke.

"Gods, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Dastan said quickly "I just-I saw how miserable you looked and I thought that if I got you away you'd feel better-"

"No, its okay," Tamina said, doing her best to smile, "thank you," she said slowly walking the rest of the way to the fountain, sitting heavily on the edge before resting her too heavy head in her hands, "I don't suppose I told you how much I loathe dressing up?"

"I'd think with that prayer robe you're always wearing you enjoyed it," Dastan said, seeming to relax a little.

"Tradition," she said, "and believe me, what the previous Guardians wore was much worse."

Dastan walked over to where she was sitting. After a moment of hesitation he sat next to her on the edge of the fountain, The two of them were quiet as they sat there, letting the silence and soft colors that surrounded the fountain take the place of the chaos echoing just past the walls. Sitting next to him, Tamina let her eyes close just for a moment, pressing her fingertips into her temples. The moment of peace, however small, was still more than she could have imagined she would have on her wedding day. Dastan was silent as he sat next to her, letting her take the moment to compose herself. Finally she opened her eyes and straitened up, smoothing out the front of her gown as she looked at him.

"We should return."

"Alright," he nodded, pushing himself to his feet before offering his hand to help her up once more. Tamina rose to her feet, "lets go back."

"Dastan," she tightened her fingers on his, stopping him. He turned back towards her, curiosity in his eyes, "thank you."

His face broke into a grin.

"Anytime," he said before leading her back to the feast.

They were swept away by the chaos once more as revelers cheered and celebrated their nuptials. Between the food and the liquor and the good natured-but very firm-pats on the back he got, Dastan was sure he would be bruised for the days following when he would have to endure more of this. Tamina too still looked less than thrilled at their situation but still managed to bear it with a thousand times more grace than he had. The celebrations and revelry lasted well past nightfall, when the servants lit the lamps that had been placed around the gardens. He was sure that the celebrations would last well into the night, probably all the way through the feasts that were scheduled for the next day.

He, on the other hand, had other things to attend to.

Dastan did not notice when she had been led away, only realizing it when he cast his eyes about to look for Tamina and discovered she could not be found. His stomach dropped when he realized her absence. He scanned the crowd once more, searching for her but found that she was truly not there. Setting down the cup he had been drinking from, he turned to look for someone to ask where she had gone when an arm was slung around his shoulders. His head whipped to the side to see Garsiv grinning at him with a smile that was both drunken and good natured.

"In love already?" Garsiv asked raising an eyebrow at him, "you do work fast," he shook his head, "don't look so worried, Dastan, its just a wedding night."

"Is that where Tamina is?"

"Either that or she took six attendants and ran away."

The knot in Dastan's chest eased momentarily before the pressure increased tenfold. Tamina had not been kidnapped, no, she had just been taken away to prepare for their wedding night. Suddenly his stomach seemed a lot closer to his ankles. Wedding night, his wedding night with Tamina. It was not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind. After all within a day of meeting each other she had pressed her body against his in an attempt to reclaim the Dagger. And grief stricken or no, when all that stood between them was a simple layer of cotton, it was rather hard to think of anything else. His throat seemed to tighten at the prospect of what was about to happen, even as he fought to keep anything he felt off his face. Garsiv, thankfully, seemed to drunk or too happy to care about his ashen faced little brother's thoughts on his wedding night.

"Here," he said drunkenly, grabbing the nearest clay flask of liquor, "you're going to need this."

Dastan downed half the jug faster than he thought possible.

Only to realize when the liquor began to pound through his head that that might not have been the most brilliant idea.

But the thought of her, of Tamina, waiting there for him was just enough to make his head swim. A secondary timeline aside, he had been dreaming of what it would be like for a month-only to then feel like a complete fool for thinking of what it would be like to be with a woman who he was keeping such a secret from. He had told her the truth now but a part of him still wondered if doing it now, doing it like this, if that was really such a good thing. It was necessary, he knew that, but the idea of his father, his friends-Gods, the entire kingdom-knowing that he had lain with Tamina made his stomach roll. Ever since he had come to the palace and royalty as a young boy he had been amazed at the interest people took in their royalty. Now though he was beginning to wish they cared a little less, or paid slightly less attention.

"Feel better?" Garsiv asked, "good," he said before Dastan could nod, "lets get you upstairs. I hope your new bride is armed," he continued. Dastan raised an eyebrow, "those buttons are going to take her all night to get through."

Wordlessly Dastan nodded as Garsiv steered him upstairs and Dastan did his best not to feel as though he was being led to his execution. Finally he found himself outside of the door. Garsiv stepped back. Dastan turned to face him. Head cocked to the side, his brother seemed to examine him for a moment before one of his hands darted out, There was the sound of thread tearing before his brother's hand drew back, one of the buttons missing from the outside of Dastan's jacket.

"My wedding gift to you," Garsiv said, holding the button between his fingers before leaning closer, "she's more likely to just rip the thing off you if she sees there's one missing," he explained, "by the time you get to your third wife you'll just have her cut the thing off you."

"Garsiv," Dastan glanced both ways before leaning closer to his brother, "I think I'm only going to have one wife," he confided.

"Only one?" Garsiv asked, "are you mad?"

"No," Dastan whispered, "but I think I might be in love."

"Well she's certainly pretty enough to count for two-not like those last two hags Tus married."

Dastan snorted, covering his mouth with his hand at the low blow from his brother. Though there was truth in Garsiv's words. Tus's last two brides had been anything but great beauties.

"He-we-_we_-needed those alliances," Dastan said, trying valiantly to defend what they had all agreed was a terrible choice.

"I'm sure he was thinking about that when he stood before the doors leading to his wedding chamber," Garsiv said, still laughing.

"He's the future King," Dastan whispered through his own mirth, "sacrifices must be made."

"Yes," Garsiv said, straitening up before tugging Dastan's jacket fully into place, "and speaking of," he winked, "go get her you Lion."

Dastan rolled his eyes, wondering how what had seemed like such a fierce moniker on other men's tongues could seem so demeaning on Garsiv's. Reaching forward he grasped the handles of the door and pulled them open.

The room was as beautiful as the rest of the wedding. Flower petals were heaped everywhere, bathing the air in perfume. Candles set around shallow bowls filled with liquid flickered all around, turning the pale walls golden with their light. The windows were open to the night breeze, though the room was still wonderfully warm. He could see a low bed nearby, the gauzy curtains carefully tied back to expose the soft white bedding. Dastan looked around the room, his eyes moving in search of the woman who he knew would be there.

"Oh and remember what I said about not being early!" Garsiv's voice echoed loudly down the hallway.

Dastan cringed, vowing everlasting pain on his brother as the doors swung shut behind him. When he dared to open his eyes, the room was still quite empty. Frowning, Dastan stepped further into the confines, casting his eyes around for the Princess. For a moment he was hopeful that she had not heard what his brother had said, that maybe she was off somewhere doing something to get ready and that the doors would open and at least some of the embarrassment would be saved. But then he heard the soft swish of fabric coming from an ornate screen in the corner and he realized that there was no such luck coming his way.

Then Tamina stepped out and he realized he might just be the luckiest man in Persia.

He had seen her in some very revealing clothing. Like the ostrich maiden outfit and the clothing she had worn when feeding chestnuts to the fat dignitary at his father's funeral. Both of those outfits had been made to show skin, to reveal what the carefully stitched white garments she usually wore hid. He had enjoyed the display immensely, especially when she had been forced to wear the ridiculous ostrich feather's in her hair. But there was nothing laughable about how she looked now.

Gone were the crystals and rich embroidered, layered garments she had worn during their wedding. The simple white garment she wore was different from what he had seen. The white fabric knotted behind her neck, leaving her shoulders, arms and a deep v of skin between her breasts wonderfully bare. It was short as well, barely reaching mid thigh and revealing her long legs. Her hair had been unwoven from the crystals that had graced it. Unbound it cascaded down her back in an ebony wave. She wore no jewelry and save for the kohl on her eyes and the henna on her hands and feet, there was no further ornament on her. He opened and closed his mouth, feeling like a fish out of water as she stepped further into the candle light, her steps impossibly graceful.

Tamina enjoyed the stupefied look on Dastan's face immensely. In spite of how indecent the garment she wore was, she had been so desperate to get out of the heavy silk and crystals that she all but tore her own clothing off. She had thought that when she faced Dastan she would be scared or nervous but when she looked at him she realized that while she felt those things, it was not nearly as bad as she thought it would be. Especially not when his eyes drank in her appearance hungrily, as though he could somehow see through the white fabric she wore-either that or he desperately wished that he could see though it.

Tamina swept her eyes over his form, still clad in his wedding garments. She had seen him nude, thanks to the night she woke him from the dreams, but there was a difference in seeing a hysterical man struggle to his feet and what was going to happen now. He seemed frozen in place so she walked forward, before her resolve could falter. But all thoughts of banter went out of her head as she looked at the man in front of her. They were married, they were actually wed, and now there was one thing left to do before their marriage would be considered truly official. And like in all other aspects of the wedding, she had been given instructions. So Tamina walked until she stood in front of him, her eyes meeting his as her fingers went up to the knot of fabric half hidden in her hair.

Dastan's fingers reached out and caught hers before she could undress further, his eyes moving over her face. Tamina looked at him curiously as his fingers wound around hers, threading their hands together before slowly bringing them down in between their bodies. Tamina looked down at their joined hands before she looked up at him, feeling puzzled about what he was doing. She waited as he looked down at their hands, silent for a moment, his eyes locked on their hands. They remained there, even when he began to speak.

"We kissed," he said, "before, in that time," he told her, his eyes darting up to hers before looking back at their hands, "i don't know if that changes anything but I thought you should know."

Tamina looked down at their hands. They way he spoke, what he spoke of, it only made it clearer just how intertwined their fates were. She looked up at him, catching his gaze with her own. Dastan looked at her hesitantly, as though he was half sure she would run away. But her fingers only tightened on his.

"Have you wondered what the blessing I gave you in the temple last night was?" she asked him. Silently he nodded, "it was a blessing given to those who have journeyed with the Dagger, who know of its incredible power, whose fates are bound to it-as my own is," she kept his gaze with her own, "I do not know what happened during that time, save for what you tell me, but you have to trust that you were brought to this city-and to me-for a reason."

"How can you believe something like that so easily?" he asked, but there was no accusation in his tone, simply confusion.

"Its called faith, Dastan, and it is anything but easy," she replied.

Dastan looked at her. Tamina leaned forward slowly, making no move to break their joined hands as she softly pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was light, teasing even and it was all Dastan could do not to go completely mad at the sensation. He leaned forward, deepening the kiss. Tamina sank into it, following his lead, her lips parting under his. His hands slowly left hers, one slowly coming to rest on her side. Shivers raced across her skin as his calloused fingertips touched the edge of skin next to the fabric of her robe. Slowly her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

His other hand reached her shoulder. Tamina tensed as his fingertips trailed across her shoulder, brushing her hair to the side as they did. His lips left hers before pressing against her neck as his fingers began to trail the length of her spine. Tamina gasped aloud, her body arching into his as his teeth grazed her earlobe before continuing down her throat. Her fingers dug into the embroidery of his jacket as his palm splayed across her lower back, his lips pressing into the juncture where her neck met her shoulder. Tamina caught her lip in her teeth as his fingers curled against her skin before spreading once more, his palm pulling her roughly against his frame.

Tamina's fingers tightened further against his jacket. Without a thought to modesty she gave a sharp tug, pulling the small buttons apart. Dastan's hands released her as she pulled his jacket fully open, exposing the shirt he wore underneath. The moment the buttons were undone, both of his hands were at her lower back, pulling her insistently against his hard frame once more. With the outer layer of his jacket removed, Tamina could feel his pulse beating in his chest and suddenly the warmth of him was like a drug. She wanted, no, she _needed_ more. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, yanking him closer without any warning.

They were so involved that neither heard the whistle of the dart.

Dastan tore his lips away from Tamina's as the black dart that was supposed to embed itself in his throat instead slammed into the wood. His eyes widened but there was no time to think or plan how to move. They were in the center of the room. Hooking a foot around her ankles, he dropped them both to the ground, covering her body with his as more darts rained down and embedded themselves in the wood. Whipping his head to the side, Dastan looked out in the direction they came from but their thrower was lost to the shadows outside the balcony. It seemed that the high ledge surrounding the balcony gave them some cover from the thrower.

"Stay low," Dastan ordered, looking down at Tamina who nodded, "get behind the screen, then we'll break for the door."

Staying low they bolted for the screen as darts flew in their wake. The moment they were behind it more embedded themselves in the wood. Dastan swore, if the thrower came in they were in even worse trouble. Out of habit his hand went for his sword but when it touched the folds of fabric, he remembered that he carried no weapon. Not on his wedding day. He looked at Tamina who crouched next to him. Shrugging out of the heavy, ornate jacket he had worn, he balled it up as best he could and looked back at her.

"When I throw this, we run, alright?"

She nodded. Dastan drew back his hand and threw the jacket forward. It opened mid-air. Immediately the darts whistled through the air, slamming into the fabric and pinning it to the wall. Dastan and Tamina raced through in before the thrower could reload his weapons and catch them. The five steps it took to get to the door were the longest of either of their lives. Tamina threw the door open as they both threw themselves across the thresh-hold. Racing into the hallway, Dastan slammed the door behind them, locking it for good measure. In the hallway they could hear the revelry that had continued in their absence.

"I have to go and warn my father," Dastan said, starting for the stairs only to stop when he realized Tamina was not with him, "Tamina?"

"I have to go and get the Dagger," she said, "i have to make sure its safe," she continued and, without a thought to modesty or safety, she turned and raced down the hallway.

Dastan turned back to the stairs, intent on telling his father and brothers what was going on. But his body and his heart had other plans. He knew that the man outside was cloaked in black and that the weapons he had used were as much a part of him as his own beating heart. He knew the man was a Hassansin and that he was not after his father's throne. He was after the Dagger, the Dagger that Tamina was racing to check on.

Before he could consider going to his family, Dastan turned around and raced after Tamina.

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**Uhoh! Better get a move on! Stupid Hassansin, its their wedding night!**

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	5. Chapter 5

**WOO HOO! New chapter!**

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Dastan ran up the steps, hot on Tamina's heels.

They had taken corridors where there were few windows. The sounds of revelry below were a comfort to him. The Hassansins might have been attacking them, but clearly they had made no attempts to cause chaos below. But it was little more than a passing comfort. They were after the Dagger. It was the only explanation. Tus's men had combed the desert looking for their lair but they had not found it. As he ran with Tamina Dastan knew that they were after the blade. What had his Uncle promised them-worse, what had he asked them to do? If they got to the dagger first, they could take it back to the time before his Uncle's death. Worse they could go back further, to when he and his father were young boys and his Uncle saved his father from the lion. All that they had suffered to prevent that from happening and if they reached the dagger and got it to the hourglass it could still occur.

"Tamina!" he shouted up to her. She turned and looked at him, though neither slowed their pace, "they know where the Sands are. Under the city, if they know about the Dagger they know the rest."

Her eyes widened, any color seeping from her face as her pace increased dramatically. Dastan ran with her as they crested the stairs. Reaching out he grabbed her and yanked her back before she could get into the temple room-before the high arched windows gave their attacker a perfect shot. Tamina gasped as she was pulled back, colliding solidly with his chest. Dastan wrapped an arm around her waist, both to steady her and to make sure she did not paint a target on herself. Pressing them both into the narrow alcove, Dastan turned his head to peer out cautiously into the temple room. There seemed to be nothing inside of it, no Hassansin, dart thrower or otherwise. Dastan looked upwards at the ornate columns.

Something moved in the shadows.

Eyes adjusted, Dastan watched the black asp that slid poisonously around the column, lowering itself towards the ground. Dastan looked at the tabernacle. The metalwork was impossibly fine, the small opening too little to allow the body of the snake to pass. Though he was fairly certain the snake would be able to get through eventually, what worried him far more was that the leader of the HAS could not be far behind his precious snakes. Asps were fast and poisonous but Dastan knew he'd rather face them than the sharp, blue eyed man who controlled the snakes. Looking upwards he cast his eyes about for anything that would let him distract the snake or, failing that, catch it.

"Are there any other ways out of the temple?" Dastan asked her.

"Not unless you count the window," Tamina said to him.

Dastan looked at her and then at the window, realizing that they would probably have to include that. A single narrow staircase that was free of windows and full of blind spots was hardly the kind of place one went if being pursued. Dastan looked back at the temple floor. The asp had reached the bottom of the column and was unwinding itself, making its way towards the tabernacle. Dastan looked around once more, there had to be something he could use as a weapon in there. His eyes landed on the bowl and chain, used to perfume the air with incense. It was within arm's reach, if he let go of Tamina. He looked at the Princess who was watching the snake intently.

"How fast can you get that thing open?" he asked, nodding towards the tabernacle.

"Very," she said. He nodded and reached his hand around, grabbing the chain and bowl, "what are you going to do with that?"

"Distract the snake," he said.

"If that snake was sent here then there might be another," Tamina said, looking at him.

"I'll get that one two. You just get to the Dagger. If they get that its all over," he said. She nodded her understanding, "wait until I've got the snake's attention, get the dagger."

Tamina nodded. Dastan held her gaze for a moment, his fingers tightening on the chain. He looked as if he was going to say something else but before he did, he turned and faced the temple. Tamina pressed her fingers into the wall as he moved forward, his grip tight on the chain. Slowly he began to swing the incense bowl in an arc, the metal whipping through the air. At the sound the snake paused, lifting itself up as it turned towards Dastan. He showed no fear as he whipped the bowl back and forth with more speed, the sound rising in response. When the snake began to move back and forth, Tamina threw herself from the wall and raced across the floor of the temple.

Forcing herself to concentrate solely on the task, she pressed her fingers to the top circle of the lock of the tabernacle. Three times she pressed it before twisting the center of the design in a perfect circle. She repeated the process on the top and bottom circles before giving the central one a final twist, unlocking the tabernacle. Throwing open the doors she ran inside and grabbed the Dagger off its pedestal. The moment she did, there was another hiss and she barely had time to duck before a second asp launched itself at her and the Dagger. It sailed through the air, colliding with the back of the tabernacle before dropping to the ground. Fighting the urge to scream, Tamina pressed the Dagger to her chest and darted from the tabernacle, slamming the doors shut as the asp shot forward in another attack.

She turned in time to see Dastan catch one asp in the bowl of the incense holder. With an expert fling of his wrist, he sent the sake sailing over his shoulder and out of the window. Tamina jumped backwards against the tabernacle, pressing her back against the surface. The adrenaline was so great she could not feel the coolness of the air or the chill of the metal behind her. All that mattered was the Dagger she clutched. Dastan turned his head to see the Dagger pressed to her chest. Moving forward he caught the second asp on its next attack, flinging the snake over the ledge with its brother. His eyes swept the room for more snakes as Tamina held onto the Dagger, her own eyes following his. Motioning for her to stay, Dastan ran over to the stairway and peered inside of it. Tamina leaned forward, her heel rising off the ground.

Something sharp stung her foot.

Eyes widening, Tamina looked down to see that one of the snakes had knocked two glass idols over, shattering them against the floor. She could feel blood on her heel. Before she could inspect the wound further, Dastan came back. Moving her foot to the side, Tamina raised her eyes as he ran back over to her

"We're not going out that way," he said.

"What do you mean?" she gasped, all thoughts of her stinging foot vanishing, "that's the only exit!"

"Not anymore," Dastan said running over to the window and looking down.

Tamina stared down at the city spread dizzyingly below them. Up here she could hear the sound of celebration but it was muffled by distance. The bright lights were little more than pinpricks from their dizzying height. And yet one look at Dastan's face told her that he was formulating a way for them to get down through the window. Tamina looked down at the face of the tower. It was ornate, as beautiful on the outside as the inside. It had been built before the city and built so that even if the city below it was lost to the desert, the tower would remain. Tamina looked at Dastan, aghast that he could be thinking such a thin.

"This is the highest tower in the city! Are you mad?" Tamina demanded as he swung a leg over the ledge.

"Its been suggested," he said, looking down before looking at her, "you don't have a problem with heights do you?"

"I have a problem with mad Prince's who think that climbing out of towers when there is a perfectly good staircase five steps away is a good idea!"

"Trust me when I say that staircase is not an option," he said, looking over her shoulder at the entrance.

Tamina turned around to look. Her eyes saw nothing out of the ordinary but her ears heard the echoes of footsteps. Precise, silent almost, footsteps of one who had been trained to move with stealth. But they were quick, as if their owner had decided it would be better to catch them than to uphold his skill. Her eyes widened as she looked back at Dastan. Quickly she swung her legs over the edge of the ledge, stepping onto the other end. Immediately the air was cold on her back as she gripped the ledge, trying not to think about how many feet were in between her and the certain death that lay below.

"Tamina-Tamina!" she turned her head towards Dastan, "everything's going to be fine," he told her over the whip of the breeze, "I'll go first, I'll tell you where to put your feet. Put them just where i tell you, alright?"

"I don't suppose we did this before?" she asked, fighting the urge to look down.

"No," he said, "but I've scaled taller."

He hadn't.

But Dastan refused to let it show. He was going to get them down, the Guaridan, the Dagger and then he was going to warn his family. They did not have time to fight anyone else. From the look of terror on Tamina's face, he realized they cold be up there all night with him trying to convince her to scale the tower. There was no time. They could save everyone but they had to be quick. They could not afford to waste any time. As her eyes searched his face, Dastan did his best to look as if he scaled impossibly tall towers every day. Tamina looked back at the temple room longingly, as if there was a chance they would somehow make it down the stairs without encountering the Hassansins.

"Tamina," he repeated her name, laying his hand over hers. She looked at his hand and then up at his face, her eyes still wide and terrified, "we have to get the Dagger out of here."

Her sense of purpose seemed to be what she needed to overcome the fear. Nodding she looked at him as he nodded to her and lowered himself down. She quickly stuck the dagger into the folds of her robe, freeing her hands. He had learned scaling buildings that there were fast routes and there were safer routes. He chose the latter of the two, his practiced hands easily finding the widest of the ledges and gaps in the ornate work of the tower. His assessment had been right, the tower was one of the easiest building's he had ever scaled. Even leading another person down it was simple-for him. He was careful not to go too fast, making sure that Tamina found her footing.

He forced himself to focus only on each move they made further down. He did not think of the Hassansin in the temple, nor the ones who were moving towards his family. But even those were secondary thoughts in comparison to the memory of the last time he had been on a high peak with Tamina. The last time when she had been thrown off, when she had fallen to her death. Every so often her eyes would find his. She looked pale, sweat standing out on her brow as she made her way down the face of the tower. He let their pace be as slow as he dared, thankful that as they got closer to the rest of the palace sand had found its way against the facade. Sand that would make the sweat on her palms less slick, helping her grip better. He steered them slowly down the face towards the long walkway that extended along the edge of the palace.

When they were a few feet from the bottom, he looked up to see her courage falter. Her fingers gripped the wall, locking onto the stone as her eyes pressed shut before opening wide. He could see vertigo gripping her. Looking down, he saw the jump was not far. Quickly he pushed himself away from the edge, dropping onto the ground. Looking up he saw her grip tighten against the stone as she looked straight ahead, seemingly fighting the urge to let go or be sick. Dastan looked around, trying to see if the Hassansin was around. His eyes found nothing, but there was nothing reassuring in it. He needed to get her down.

"Tamina," he spoke, there was less wind so the need to shout was gone, "let go of the stone," she shook her head, "I'm right here, I'll catch you."

Her eyes left the stone as she cautiously looked over her shoulder at him. He opened his arms in a gesture he hoped conveyed that he would catch her. She seemed to struggle, torn between the instinct of holding on and the need to get off the face of the tower. Her eyes went up to the impossible distance that they had climbed to get down. Dastan moved slightly closer to the edge of the tower.

"Third step's the hardest," he said.

Tamina pushed herself closer to the wall, her eyes finding his. He looked up at her earnestly. He saw her chest work up and down before she nodded, forcing her fingers away from the wall as she stepped away.

For one terrible moment he was back on the rock face, watching her fall to her death, powerless to do anything to stop it. He remembered everything with such startling clarity, from the rocks that dug into his hand to the wind that whipped at his face. Even the startling coldness of his slick palm as her warm had finally slid free. He could remember every detail and yet he knew there was nothing he could have done to change anything. For one terrible moment he was back there, watching her fall.

Then she landed in his arms.

Her weight was warm and real and just as quickly he found he could breath again. Relief crashed into him but he forced it aside, quickly setting her on her feet. To her credit she did not sag with relief at being on solid ground and her hands only shook minimally as she reached into her robe and pulled out the Dagger. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she pressed the weapon to her chest before opening her eyes and looking at him.

"We have to get to your father and brothers," she said, "before those men do. I know an easier path, follow me," she said, taking off. Dastan nodded, falling into step behind her. He frowned as he found something wet on his hand. Looking down he saw blood on his fingertips.

"Tamina you're bleeding," he said.

"Its nothing, I cut my foot on some glass," she said over her shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"If you ask me how I am one more time I will take the Dagger to the temple myself and leave you here for these crowds!"

Dastan held his hands up in surrender before he followed her off the roof and into the palace. Running over to the the wall she grabbed a torch out of its bracket and yanked the bracket down with a forceful tug. A door set seamlessly into the wall slid open, revealing a darkened passageway. Holding the torch high, Tamina ran into the darkness, giving Dastan no choice but to follow her. The passage was small and narrow, smelling strongly of sand, dust and disuse. It wound dizzyingly downwards. Dastan's sense of direction was seriously compromised, giving him no choice but to trust in the Princess that ran ahead of him. She stopped short, so short he only just managed to side step and avoid colliding with her. Turning the torch on its side she inserted it into a spot on the cobweb covered wall. It fit in like a lock in a key. With a twist of her wrist she opened another secret door.

They stepped out into a darkened courtyard, just out of sight of the revelers. The door slid shut behind them, cutting off the torchlight and leaving them in the darkness. Dastan quickly stepped forward, intent on finding his father when Tamina's hand grabbed his upper arm. Dastan turned his head to look at the Princess next to him. She blinked, clearly trying to fight any remaining effects from scaling the tallest tower in Alamut. Her lips pressed together as though she was about to be sick before she looked at him.

"Do you know of the Guardian Temple?" she asked. Wordlessly he nodded, fighting the memory of the people who had been slaughtered defending it, "whatever happens in Alamut, the Dagger has to get to the Temple. It will be safe there, from those who hunt it," he nodded and turned to go but her fingers tightened on his arm, stopping him, "if we ride hard we can be there by dawn. The feasts and revelry can serve as a distraction," he looked at her, "tell only who you must that you are leaving. Secrecy is our greatest weapon now."

"But if we just stay here-"

"The Dagger's not safe here!" she insisted, her fingers tightening against his arm, "it has to be safe. You know that, better than most."

"I understand," he said finally, "lets find Tus and Garsiv-"

Anger and outrage seemed to take over her need to be sick as she glared at him.

"Are you out of your mind? I am not going out there dressed like this," she said motioning to her white garment.

"Alright, fine," Dastan said, "stay here."

Tamina nodded. Dastan moved forward to the opening of the alcove and peered out of it. It was late in the celebration and by some strange stroke of luck Garsiv and Tus were on their way back to their rooms for the night. From the loud laughter coming from Garsvi's mouth, he had no doubt he was the subject of their conversation. Neither had their guards with them. Leaning outwards, Dastan looked at the two of them. Looking down at the white jacket he wore, Dastan tugged off one of the remaining buttons on his jacket. Drawing back his wrist, he snapped his wrist out, the button flying through the air and hitting Garsiv in the forehead.

"What the-"

Both of them turned to look at him. Dastan motioned for them to come to him. Trading looks, his brothers quickly walked over to him.

"You know I expected you to do miserably, but outright running away is a little dramatic don't you think?" Garsiv asked as they reached him.

"Ha ha, would you just come with me?" Dastan said sarcastically.

He led the two of them to the place where Tamina was waiting against the wall. Tus and Garsiv looked between the pair. As their eyes went to Tamina both men gulped and blushed, looking away from the scantily clad woman. Tamina seemed dazed, too dazed to care about what his brothers thought of her clothing. Her fingers clutched the dagger almost desperately, as if she needed the reminder of her mission to keep from being truly sick. Dastan was keenly aware of the taxation of riding through the night, but he knew she would hear nothing of relaxing until the precious Dagger was safe. He turned to his brothers.

"Having never run away before, I could be wrong but I don't think you're supposed to take her with you when you leave," Garsiv said.

"There are Hassansins here," Dastan said, ignoring his brother's jab.

His brothers stared at him. First with disbelief then with fear.

"Are you mad?" Garsiv questioned.

"Hassansins," Tus questioned, his brow furrowing, "my men have been searching but they have not been able to find their lair."

"They're here," Dastan repeated, "they're after a treasure of Alamut, something Tamina is sworn to protect. She needs to make sure its safe and I must go with her."

His brothers looked at him as though he had grown a second head. Dastan fought not to feel ridiculous under their scrutiny. He knew what they were thinking. He was, after all, talking about running away on the eve of his own wedding. But he had to believe the guards would be able to protect his brothers just as he was able to protect Tamina. the only way to make sure everyone came through this alive was to once more get the Dagger to safety. And then they could deal with the Hassansins, the last piece of the puzzle. Garsiv and Tus seemed to be considering his words so Dastan spoke.

"We have to get out of the city, quickly" Dastan repeated. Tamina nodded, "I'll explain everything to you when I can."

Tus looked between them. Dastan hoped that urgency shown on his face. It must have, after a moment his brother nodded. Garsiv followed suite. Their faith in him, their willingness to take him at his word was incredibly humbling. When this was over, when the world was safe, Dastan vowed to tell them everything. Reaching up to his throat, Tus quickly undid the claps of his elaborate outer robe and pulled it off. He held the garment open to Tamina. Her eyes widened as she looked at him before realizing the kindness he offered. Quickly she slid her arms through the sleeves, shrugging the robe on to give her some kind of modesty.

"We will see to it that you are covered for," Tus said, "I only hope this is as important as you say."

"It is," Dastan said, clasping his brother's forearm, "thank you brother."

"Then I look forward to hearing your explanation when you return," Tus said. Garsiv nodded.

"Your man Bis is staying behind?" Garsiv asked. Dastan nodded, "we will see to it that the Hassansins are defeated."

"Be careful," Dastan implored, remembering seeing his brother laying there dead.

"A little faith, brother," Garsiv said with a smile that Dastan fought to return.

Dastan looked at Tamina who gave him a look that clearly said they needed to get a move on. He nodded to his brothers before walking quickly after her down the passageway. A thought occurred to him and he touched her shoulder, stopping her before he turned around and hurried back to his brothers.

"Oh," Dastan said to Garsiv, "and I'm taking your horse."

"What? No! No you are not-" Dastan had already taken off, "can't you just climb on some walls or something? You can't even ride properly!"

Dastan and Tamina hurried into the darkness of the passageway, their feet quick on the sand. He heard the familiar footfalls of his brother's guards as they raced towards the Prince and the future King. They would be safe. They knew the kind of enemy they fought. He ran down the darkened corridor with Tamina, heading for the stables where he knew his brother's horse was waiting. Garsiv insisted on looking after his prize horse himself. All the mount's gear was nearby. It took Dastan moments to saddle him and bring him around. Tamina was waiting for him just outside the stall. She had transfered the dagger into the pocket concealed in the lining of Tus's robe.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Lets just get there," Tamina said.

Dastan bent down and cupped his hands, boosting her into the saddle before he swung himself onto the mount in front of her. Tamina locked her hands around his waist as the already swaying world became even more disorienting. If she had asked for her own horse, Tamina knew she would have been flat on her face by the time they left the city. She felt sickened. What she had thought was dizziness from their climb down the tower's facade had not abated, certainly not in the time it would take vertigo to abate. This was something-something else. The dagger that pressed to her side through the silk of Tus's robe was the only thing that gave her the strength to hold onto Dastan's back as he urged the horse through the city. As her stomach rolled, she tightened her grip against him and pressed her face into the silk of his shirt.

She was so disoriented that when the lights of the city gave way to the dark of the desert she hardly noticed it. But she could not find it in herself to tell him to stop. They had to get to the Guardian Temple. He said that he had been there. She had to pray that he remembered the way. For the life of her she did not know if she would be able to speak without being sick. All she could do was tighten her grip on her new husband and hope that the blessing she had given him would be enough to see them through.

As they rode, Dastan leaned over the horse, acutely aware of Tamina's face pressed into his spine. He could hear her unsteady breathing but attributed it to their dizzying climb. Some people reacted badly to their first times. He had a feeling if he asked how she was he was going to be on the receiving end of some choice words from his new wife. He did not know how long they robe before the hands that gripped his waist began slacken. Dastan's eyes widened, his hand streaking out and barely managing to grab hers before she fell off the horse. Pulling the stallion to a stop, Dastan twisted around to see Tamina leaning heavily against him. Jumping down, he pulled her off the horse and onto the sand in front of him.

"Tamina, Tamina!" he called, tapping her face in an effort to wake her.

She was unconscious, her dark lashes pressed to her cheeks. In the light of the moon he could see that she was even paler than before, sweat standing stark on her brow. Dastan pressed his fingers to throat, only to find her pulse was racing and he could see the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Something had happened, something that she had missed or she had decided not to tell him in an effort to protect her precious Dagger. Quickly he looked at her, running his hands and eyes over her arms and torso. Moving to her legs, his fingertips found what his eyes missed.

Two smears of blood.

Lifting her ankle with his hand, he examined the back of her leg. He saw the source of the blood. Covering his hand with his sleeve, he wiped the blood away to reveal the wound. His eyes found what he was looking for, though dread filled him at the sight of it. She had mentioned cutting her foot on glass earlier, but looking at the wound he knew that was not the case. On the back of her leg, just above her ankle, were two small puncture wounds. Fang wounds. Suddenly the relief he had felt at saving her and his family from the Hassansins evaporated, replaced with a sickening certanity that he had saved no-one. They were in the middle of the desert, pursued by Hassansins and carrying a Dagger that could erase everything they were. But that was not the worst of it.

Tamina had been bitten by one of their snakes.

Everything from her rapid pulse to her shallow breathing to the sweat on her brow and the paleness of her skin made him think that there was a good chance she was poisoned. He tried to think back to the asps. If they had struck something else, if they had injected their venom in their earlier strikes, there was a chance she had not received a lethal dose. But lethal or not, the road that lay ahead was anything but easy. Dastan looked back at the pale sand that spread all around them, his eyes trying to find any sign of swirling sands or men cloaked in black. Looking back at Tamina he fought the urge to tell himself that she had gotten worse in the few moments he had looked away. He had to get her help, fast. They could not go back to the city either, not without risking the Dagger. There was no choice but to press forward. Bending down, Dastan slid a hand underneath Tamina's shoulders and another under her legs, pulling her up against him.

She groaned softly at the movement, her head turning into his shoulder as her hands curled weakly into fists. Dastan looked down at her. His fingers tightened against her as he fought the urge to focus on her falling to her death. She would not save the world by dying now. There was nothing selfless in a snake bite. They were not on the edge of the rock face, forced to choose between selfishness and selflessness, thank the Gods. She was strong, she had shown how strong she was. She could get through this, no matter how torturous it was. He had to believe that. Pressing a hand to her side he felt the smooth glass of the Dagger's hilt. This time, this time he was going to see them both safe.

It took a little maneuvering but he managed to get himself into the saddle with minimal jostling to her. Dastan settled her against his chest, placing her on the front of the saddle rather than the back. In spite of her earlier groan she made no sound as he mounted the horse, seeming to have lapsed back into unconsciousness. Desperately Dastan tried to think back on whether it was good or bad for that to happen but his mind came up with nothing. Treatment was beyond his ability, but he could get her to a place where they could help her. If they worked quickly they could get the Dagger to the Temple within two days time. A part of him knew that he should take the Dagger to the Temple first, worry about its Guardian second but that small part was eclipsed by the need to see her safe. She had been selfless but as he turned Garsiv's horse towards their destination, he knew that if she had not released her hand from his grasp he would have let his Uncle win, if only to see her safe for a few moments more.

Jamming his heels into the sides of the horse, Dastan turned the stallion to the only place he could think of that would be closer to the Guardian Temple, offer shelter from the Hassansins and be capable of dealing with the poison from a Hassansin's snake.

He had to get to the Valley of the Slaves, fast.

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**Go Dastan go! Just not the sanctuary! That might not be a good idea...Hope he gets to the Valley in time-and lets face it, if anyone can orchestrate a wedding night for the two of them its Amar. Lets hope Dastan can convince him to lend a hand. **

**Don't worry, Garsiv and Tus aren't going to disappear-and neither is Bis. I love those three way too much to cut them out like they did in the movie. Bonus points for whoever can tell me what the name of Garsiv's 'famous' horse is! **

**Okay people now is the time to review! Once again thank you for the faves and alerts but, as always, I'm here for the feedback and you do that through reviewing! Anonymously, signed in, however you want, tell me what you think! Remember that you guys reviewing makes me want to update faster and, as I've pointed out, that makes us both happy! **

**Yay for mutually beneficial relationships!**

**So please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**First off Che and ****lillelouis** **get cookies for giving me the name of the horse! You guys rock! **

**In fact, all of you rock!**

**You reviewed, I updated and we're all happy! **

**Now I gotta tell you how the next few weeks are going to work. As of right now this story's going to be long but not too long. I'm going to do my best to keep giving you a chapter a day, something totally feasible right now. This is kind of my week with nothing to changes next week when I start working for the, wait for it, library! Yep, I work for them for the next few weeks which means I'll have a bit less time on my hands but I should still be able to give you guys a chapter a day! Hopefully by the time that's done this story will be done too.**

**Because then I start Arabic!**

**I've gotten a few people asking me about my studies. See if you look on my profile page you see I'm heading off to be a graduate student. No, not in writing. Actually I study religion. My BA is in International Relations with a double minor in History and Religion. Now I'm heading off to study Religion as a specialization. I don't want to be a priest, I study religion and politics and how the two work together. But so hopefully this'll be done by then because something tells me when I start intensive Arabic immersion I'm not going to have much time for writing fanfiction!**

**But enough about me!**

**Lets get back to the story!**

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Aksh's hooves pounded the sand, Dastan gripped the reins of the horse's bridle tighter and fought the urge to stare at Tamina.

All night he had battled the desire, focusing with all his might on the task at hand. He had made the mistake once as a younger man, when, during one of the first battles he had ever been a part of, Garsiv had taken an arrow to the shoulder. Instead of putting his brother out of his mind as Tus seemed to do and focusing on the battle at hand, Dastan had practically forgotten about the fighting and very nearly lost the battle. He had gone to fight, but he kept leaving and running back into the healer's tent to see if Garsiv was dead. He had been young and foolish and newly adopted. And convinced that the older brother he looked up to as though he had put the moon and stars in the sky was going to be dead and it was somehow going to be his fault. Even when the battle had been won by a hair, he had still refused to leave Garsiv's bedside until the ebony haired young Prince was up and walking. He had been so thankful that Garsiv was alive he did not retort to any of his brother's jabs for a month.

His father had sat him down and told him that they could not control what happened in battle, not to other people. The best they could do was plan and when that failed, react. Dastan knew he had to focus on reacting to what had happened to Tamina, even when all he truly wanted to do was sit beside her and pray. There were no healers in the middle of the desert. He knew that stopping for any reason would do neither of them any good. She had left unconsciousness sometime in the middle of the night, slipping into fevered dreams that made her eyes dart under their lids and her breath catch in her throat. Several times she whispered nonsense, twice she breathed something that sounded suspiciously like his name. Neither was enough to make him slow his pace, even if he knew his hands would be sore the next day for how tight he gripped the reins. Even if he had not been there in this time, Dastan remembered the way to the wall and the skeletons. As he rode be tried to think of what he would say to get the Sheik to help him. Somehow he thought promising Amar a new Ostrich Maiden-and a half dead one at that-was going to get him nowhere. Not this time.

They reached the wall and the skeletons as the sun began to streak the sky pale. Dastan reigned in Aksh, looking up at the bones. He remembered feeling so afraid and confused when he saw them for the first time in a caravan as a boy. And when they had gone through the opening of the gates he had been too angry to feel anything else. But countless others had come through here, looking up at the skeletons with fear and terror. His eyes moved over to the spot where she had pretended to faint and then knocked him out with a bone. Even going through the Valley of the Slaves she had been unwilling to care for anything but getting her precious Dagger to safety. Almost subconsciously, his arms tightened around the too warm Princess who was pressed bonelessly against his chest. Pressing his heels into Aksh's side, he took them into the Valley.

It was dawn by the time they reached the central city, where the Sheik had built the ramshackle place with his beloved Ostrich racing track in the center. Apparently security started around mid day for the people of the Valley, all of whom seemed too drunk or too hungover to have their sleep disturbed. All but one.

He was already prepared for the whistle of the knife that sailed through the air. It was experience and experience alone that let him quickly get Aksh out of the way of the knife that sailed towards the horse. In his brother's good graces or not, he had a feeling that if he got Garsiv's prize stallion killed he would be grey and dead before he heard the end of it. Aksh reared and kicked the air, threatening to dislodge his riders but Dastan tightened his knees and his grip on Tamina, holding them both in place as Aksh settled onto the ground, snorting and shaking his head.

By the time he settled, five men had come out and surrounded them. Dastan turned, looking at them but Seso was not among them. Each of the five was armed to the teeth, all looking as if they were more than capable of wielding their weapons, hungover or not. Dastan looked at them but none seemed familiar. No tell tale blue eyes or scars that marked the Hassasins. Taking a breath, Dastan looked at the five of them.

"I wish to speak to Sheik Amar," he said.

They traded looks, seemingly surprised that he knew who Sheik Amar was but Dastan met their eyes in turn. He knew that no-one knew the city and the people in it better than Sheik Amar. If there was someone here capable of helping Tamina, he would know who it was. One of the men looked upwards. Dastan followed his gaze but by the time that he found the place the man was looking, the only indication there had been a person up on the balcony was the swinging curtain. Still the man must have given some kind of signal because the other on the ground walked forward, grabbing the Aksh's reins.

"Get off your horse," he said, his mouth parting to reveal three missing teeth.

Dastan obeyed as they led him into a low hut. Two men all but threw Dastan onto the low wooden floor, where the awning provided some kind of shelter from the rising sun. He barely managed to keep his hold on Tamina as his knees collided with the hard wood. But he would rather die than be separated from her. He knew what they did to beautiful women in places like this. He raised his head as the Sheik lumbered in. The Sheik Amar was just as fat and dirty as he had been the last time Dastan had seen him. Same oily hair and greasy beard, same cheap mismatched silks, same false and gaudy jewels financed by the Sheik Amar's dislike of taxes. But the man was still his best chance, now his only chance, of getting Tamina help. Dastan was painfully aware of that as he looked up at the man who had once agreed to go on a suicide mission with him. Amar looked him up and down.

"Where'd you steal the clothes and the horse?" Amar asked in leu of a greeting as he took in their finery, "I can always use a good thief, so long as you don't steal from me."

Dastan looked up at him. Amar did not recognize him, that much was clear, and he was surprised at the twist in his stomach at the realization. Even if the man had been intent on turning him in for the reward, towards the end of their journey he had become a friend. Now though as he looked at him it was clear he did not know him. Not only as a friend but, Dastan realized, he did not know him as a Prince of Persia either. The half formed plan in his mind locked into place as he looked up at the Sheik, realizing that even though he was the one on his knees with a half dead Princess in his arms and a Ngbaka knife thrower at his back, he had the advantage in the situation.

"My-" he stopped, looking down at Tamina before looking up at him, "my wife, she was bitten by a snake, she needs help."

"What makes you think I'd help you. This isn't a charity operation here," Amar said looking them up and down, "not that it looks like either of you gets charity much."

"If we wanted charity we wouldn't have come here," Dastan replied, "we can pay you," he said, knowing the Sheik had seen the wealth of their wedding cloths.

The Sheik looked at them carefully, considering his words. Dastan knew there was a chance he would say no. There was wealth in their clothing, to be sure, but it would be difficult to work with the clothing of nobility. Converting it into raw wealth would he hard. Something the Sheik might consider too much trouble. Dastan saw the hesitation in his eyes at the same time a low sound escaped Tamina's lips, her body tensing with another spasm of pain. Panic flared in him. Suddenly he was not the Prince with years of honed battle experience, he was a young man standing in the battlefield begging his brother not to die. The woman in his arms, she was his family, the idea of her dying was unfathomable to him. He had lost her once and almost gone mad with the grief, he could not loose her again, not after he had only just gotten her back. His head flew up to the Sheik.

"Please you have to help her."

"I don't have to do anything, boy," the Sheik said, humor fleeing from his gaze as his dislike for being told what to do showed.

"Yes, I-I know things."

"You know things?" the Sheik threw back his head, laughing loudly, "and what do you know?"

"I know the Ostrich racing takes place tuesdays and thursdays," Dastan said, fighting to keep desperation out of his voice as his words stopped Amar's humor, "and that you bought the skeletons out front from from a Gypsy and that you spread rumors so you don't have to give the King taxes. So unless you want me to spread the word to all of Persia that your reputation is just that, you'll help me."

It was a gamble, he knew it. From the glare Sheik Amar shot his way, Dastan knew he did not like to be blackmailed. Or to have information he had given useda gainst him. But he also knew that Amar was anything but a cold blooded murderer, despite the legends he spread. After all, Dastan knew he propagated stories to keep from paying taxes, letting rumors and tales do the work for him. He painted himself as a cutthroat when Dastan knew he was not one to simply murder a man, especially not one with a woman in his arms. Sure enough instead of giving the signal, Amar lowered himself down and looked at Dastan.

"And why shouldn't I kill you now and save myself the trouble?" Amar asked.

"Because if you kill me, you'll have the armies of Persia on your head and then taxes will be the least of your worries," he said, putting the last part of his plan into play.

Amar leaned forward, inspecting his face. Dastan looked up at him, letting him inspect him, knowing that he would be recognized. Sure enough after a moment Amar jerked back, swearing loudly. Dastan straightened, still holding Tamina against his chest. He could feel the erratic rise and fall of her chest against his hands. Time, that terrible, elusive thing, was running out. A minute wouldn't be enough to go back and save her, not anymore. He looked at the Sheik as Amar continued to swear and spit, looking more like he wanted to kill them both than do anything to help. But even he knew when killing a Prince of Perisa would be more trouble than it was worth.

"Seso! Make sure this idiotic Prince doesn't do anything else this stupid. And get that Hag over here! Damn Persians!"

Dastan turned to see Seso step silently out of the shadows. The Ngbaka knife thrower was just as large and deadly as Dastan remembered. But like before there was an odd stillness about him. He knew that stillness, that steadiness, it was what made him such a great knife thrower. He also knew that Seso would not impale him without Amar's orders. Amar had given no such order but when the Ngbaka man stepped forward to escort him, Dastan felt the same drop in his stomach he had when Seso's knife had been buried in the sand a breath away from his manhood. Another man came to stand next to Seso. Deciding not to press his luck, Dastan got to his feet with the Princess in his arms. The man led him down the steps as Seso fell into line behind him. At the back, he was in a much better position to throw his knives in case they decided to run.

They led him through the city, past the ostrich track and towards a set of wooden houses built above the sands. Walking up the steps, the man led Dastan into a house where a brightly draped curtains served as a door. The house had one room. Sun filtered through the cracks in the wooden boards and the pallet on the ground looked anything but clean. An old woman, the hag presumably, was in the corner mixing something foul smelling into a paste. The old woman turned around, getting to her feet though her posture remained decidedly stooped. Dastan wondered how she would be able to help Tamina when the old woman spoke.

"On the bed," she said motioning to the pallet.

Dastan stared at her for a moment before shaking himself and following her orders. He knelt down, placing Tamina gently onto the thin pallet. The old woman hobbled over and seated herself beside the bed, looking at Tamina with eyes that sagged with age. Still her movements were deft and sharp as she reached out, laying a hand on Tamina's ankle. Even at the light touch, Tamina's breath hitched in pain. Dastan looked down at the gnarled fingers. Through them he could see the pink, swollen skin. The old woman closed her eyes, her already wrinkled skin creasing further as her brows knitted together, her fingers tightening on the skin. A sound or something must have escaped his lips because the old woman looked up at him accusingly before turning her gaze to Seso.

"Get him out of here," she said nodding to Seso, "fools in love, he'll be nothing but in the way here."

"What? No-" Dastan began to protest, thinking only of leaving Tamina alone, "please-"

"You'll be nothing but in the way," the old woman snapped, yanking his brother's robe off Tamina and throwing it at him, "you're no good to her mad with worry. Out with him before its too late to do anything for her."

Seso proved he was just as strong without his knife. Dastan struggled but the Ngbaka hauled him out, throwing him past the fabric curtain. Dastan got his footing on the steps, looking up at the Ngbaka who placed himself squarely between the Prince and Tamina. Though his arms were crossed over his chest, Dastan had no doubt the Ngbaka could get to his knives and throw them much higher than that first warning shot. He looked past him, catching a glimpse of the inside as the curtain settled. Two younger women joined the older, one moving to Tamina's feet, the other towards her head as the old woman produced a large, wickedly curving knife from the folds of her robe. It was enough to make Dastan take a step towards the curtain as it blocked his view but Seso moved, cutting him off.

"The old woman was right," he said looking at him, "you're useless in there."

"But-" Dastan began to protest.

"If you want her to be safe, you have to let the woman work."

Dastan looked at him, opening his mouth to argue the point further when the women began to work. He couldn't see anything clearly through the slats in the wood, but he could hear. First it was simple things, the sharpening of a knife, the grinding of herbs. Then he heard Tamina. Like the tools, the sounds began as harmless. At first she just gasped, or made other sounds, none too terrible. But then the treatment began in earnest and Dastan knew if the Ngbaka had not been between him and Tamina at the first scream he would have raced in there.

As she cried out, Dastan slammed his fist into the wall.

There was _nothing_ that he could do.

Even if he got inside he couldn't help her. The feeling of being helpless, of being unable to do anything to ease the pain she suffered was the worst feeling he had ever felt. Only the knife pressing to his side gave him any kind of comfort. Tamina would literally throw herself over the edge of a cliff to keep the Dagger safe. It was safe. He could only pray that somewhere in the agony she knew that and somehow it gave her some kind of comfort. He wanted to rip his own hair out, to cut off his own arm, to do anything that would make her feel better. To let him be the one in there screaming and writhing on pallet instead of her. The worst of it was that every scream, every gasp, every sound she made held a twisted kind of comfort.

Because every scream, every gasp, every sound meant that she was still alive.

He did not know how long he stood there, listening to her cries of pain. They seemed to go on forever, when they stopped he wondered if it was simply because her voice had given out. The screams stopped but the silence was worse. Standing there he could only pray that they were still working on her, that the treatment was working, that all her pain would be for something. And then immediately he felt bad. He did not want her to be in pain at all. He wanted her to be safe and alive and the opposite everything that the gods-cursed Dagger she insisted on protecting seemed to want her to be. His fingers tightened on the cloth of the robe he held, his palm curling easily around the glass hilt of the damn knife.

Dastan looked down, realizing that he was gripping the Dagger for all he was worth. Tamina's screams had faded and anger seemed to seep into the worry and exhaustion he felt. Even after seeing the power of the weapon he held, after knowing his destiny and her own were entwined with the blade, Dastan could not help but wish there was a way to destroy it. Tamina had chosen the thing time and time again, once it had cost her her life, now as he listened to the silence he wondered if that had not happened a second time. Shoving the thought aside, he looked up at the walls of the house. No screams, but he could hear people moving about inside. The tight knot in his chest eased ever so slightly. If they were still working over her, she was still alive. Eventually, when the silence had nearly driven him mad, one of the younger woman peered out, her eyes softening at the sight of Dastan's ashen features.

"You can come in now," she said.

Slowly Dastan entered the room. The woman sitting beside the pallet they laid Tamina on was old and, he hoped, wiser than either of them. Humming softly, she barely spared him a look as she continued to rub a cloth soaked in water over Tamina's skin. She still wore the soft white garment that she had been wrapped in on the night they were supposed to consecrate their marriage, though the paleness of her skin meant she was much closer to matching the pallor than she had been that night. Sweat dampened the garment and slicked her hair to her forehead and shoulders. His eyes moved over her skin, taking in the new injuries laid to his eyes. He could see red irritation on the corners of her mouth, from experience he knew they had forced something between her teeth for her to bite on. Her wrists and ankle were darkened from hands that had held her down as the old woman worked the poison out of her body. A white bandage snaked around the ankle that had been bitten, covering the skin from mid calf to past her heel. Swallowing thickly, Dastan lowered himself onto the ground beside her, dropping his brother's robe and the precious Dagger to the floor.

"No need to look so ashen," the woman said, smiling to expose teeth that had been all but rotted away, "she'll be fine," his head flew up to the old woman, "your snakes must have struck before, the girl barely got any poison in her."

"But-"

"Oh it was still painful," the woman said, "but your girl's strong," she dropped the rag in the bowl and held it out to him, "make yourself useful boy. She's still running a fever, not out of the desert yet eh?"

Dastan looked at the bowl and then back at Tamina. She was so still, so pale, only the soft rise and fall of her chest kept him from thinking she was dead. He looked down at the bowl in front of him. Carefully he dipped the cloth in and wrung it out. His hands trembled but he ignored that. If this was what he could do, it was what he would. Trying to imitate the woman's movements, he ran the cloth along Tamina's arm. Her eyes remained closed, her lips softly parted as her chest rose and fell with each breath. But she was alive. She was, in some way, alright. And that was what truly mattered.

Relief made his hand with the cloth pause. The water had washed away most of the henna on her hands and feet. Only the faintest stain remained on her skin. It seemed almost impossible to him that a few hours ago it had been their wedding night, and a few hours before that he had been stumbling through his vows as they wed, joining their two kingdoms. And all because of a foolish Dagger. His eyes swept over the robe that concealed it. Had he always been fated to find it? Had his destiny always been intertwined with it? His eyes moved to Tamina's prone form and he found himself wondering if his fate, his destiny, had always been tied to hers as well. Marrying for alliances was part of being nobility, but a part of him still could not quite believe that he had managed to marry a woman he actually could love.

He couldn't believe that she had actually agreed to marry him after what he had said. His precious honor, as she put it, would not have let him marry her without confessing the truth. And yet she found it in herself to push past her own questions and confusion and help him. She was full of contradictions, the Princess in front of him. Strong and soft and beautiful and harsh. He remembered when he had turned his horse around and prayed for the strength not to kill her himself. Now as he looked at her he found himself praying all over again, though this time his prayers were for the strength to keep her safe.

The curtain swung open, though Dastan was sure he only heard Seso enter because the Ngbaka wanted him to. Hands at his side, the warrior bowed his head to the old woman who flashed a toothless smile his way. His eyes looked at Tamina before they landed on Dastan.

"The Sheik wishes to speak with you," he said, though they both knew it was anything but a wish.

Dastan nodded, looking back at Tamina. He was loath to leave her but he knew that he needed to oblige the Sheik, and probably apologize to him. Tamina had been helped though, that was what he had been after. Setting down the cloth, he looked at her face. His eyes widened as he realized the Dagger was still in his brother's robe. If he pulled it out now, Seso would see it. Even without knowledge of its power, the idea of the Ngbaka seeing him go for a knife was a bad one. Reaching out, Dastan folded the cloth around the Dagger before sliding a hand underneath Tamina's head in what looked like a makeshift pillow. She stirred at the movement, her lips parting. Quickly Dastan leaned forward, placing his mouth close to her ear as his hand covered hers.

"You're safe, so is the Dagger" he told her softly, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Her eyes remained closed but a small sound escaped her mouth, her head instinctively turning towards him. He felt her fingers move weakly under his hand. Dastan closed his eyes, his body tensing. He knew if she regained any more consciousness she was going to demand she come with him and speak to the Sheik herself. He refused to let that happen. She need to rest. He forced himself to pull away from her, watching as her features smoothed out with the pull of sleep, her cheek pressing into Tus's robe. Slowly Dastan got to his feet and turned to Seso whose eyes followed his every movement.

"Alright," he said looking up at the Ngbaka, "lets go talk talk to the Sheik."

**

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**Okay so next time Tamina gets a chapter! Dastan got one, she gets one. I'm pumped because, well, Tamina's pretty badass and for the purpose of the story she's been very understanding and duty filled. Which is her character, I know, but she's feisty and I don't think she'll be a fan of being laid up. Oh and we get more of Amar and Seso who, next time, will have a chance to be more IC. **

**And now here's the time where you review! I love the comments, I read them all! Like I said, I'm willing to pump out a chapter a day but you guys gotta meet me halfway here and review! So far you've kicked ass! Keep it up and I'll keep updating and everyone'll be happy!**

**So please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**So while I was writing "Spend my Lifetime Loving You" from the Mask of Zorro came on my itunes and I gotta say I'm now thinking that's my new Dastan/Tamina song. Seriously someone should make an AMV or something, its such a great song for them. **

**Meigui, you're an anonymous reviewer so I gotta say this here but its so cool that you mentioned studying Pure Land Buddhism! I actually spent last summer in the Ladakh region of India studying Vajrayana Buddhism! it was just about one of the craziest trips I've ever taken-and I've been to Antarctica! But it was so incredibly interesting. its actually one of the reasons I decided to go into my graduate work in a program that would let me work with more than one religion. **

**So I was finishing this chapter up, about to go to bed, when i looked at the reviews. You guys were so fast and so awesome in giving me feedback that I decided to stay up an extra hour and post this chapter for you guys tonight! Two in one day is a bit extreme, even for me, but you guys and gals have been so extremely awesome in reviewing I wanted to! So a big thank you to everyone who clicked the review button and typed something in! You made me deprived of sleep but for you all, it was worth it. **

**Now back to the story! **

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Something was digging into the back of her neck.

Tamina furrowed her brow, trying to open her eyes only to find it felt as if they had been weighed down. Sensing it would take much to get them open, she tried to figure out her surroundings. She could smell herbs and something was pressing against her calf. She tried to think back on what had brought her to this place. She could feel the hard floor underneath her back, barely masked by the thin pallet. That immediately ruled out Alamut. Or anywhere where they spared a thought towards comfort of the people who laid on their beds. She had no idea where she was. Forcing herself to be stronger than the pull of sleep, Tamina pried her eyelids open.

Her eyes moved over the hut. Sunlight slipped through the cracks in the boards that made up the walls. She was laying on a musty pallet wearing-sucking in her breath, Tamina stared down at the thin, short white garment she wore. The same thing that she was supposed to have worn on her wedding night. She pushed herself up, fighting the urge to hide behind something. The garment clung to her skin, making it even more provocative, if that was even possible. Her ebony hair had been slicked to her features, she could feel it plastered to her skin. Raising a hand to brush it back she realized that the henna that had been so carefully applied to her skin was all but washed away. And above that, bruises were forming on her wrists. Forcing herself not to panic she took account of herself. Bruises were on her wrists and she could feel one on her ankle, though the other was oddly numb. She touched the corner of her mouth to find the skin was slightly tender, as if something had been forced into her mouth to bite on. Her brows knit together. Something to bite on meant that she had been in pain. She looked down the length of her far too exposed leg to see white bandages covering her skin from ankle to midway up her calf. Her eyes widened as the smell of herbs reached her nose and memories came back to her.

Snakes, the tower, escaping Alamut, thinking that she had just cut her foot on glass and the dreaded realization that something else was wrong. The feeling of loosing conciseness and the fevered dreams that had followed. All of it blurred together.

All but Dastan and the Dagger.

Twisting around, Tamina looked to see Tus's robe folded neatly behind her in a makeshift pillow. Her fingers shook as she searched it for the pocket, her hand locking about the warm weight of the Dagger. It was safe, she was safe-but neither of them was at the Guardian Temple. Her fingers tightened around the hilt. They were somewhere else, she was injured and had been seen to. It reeked of Dastan. Only he would be foolish enough to put her above the fate of the entire world. She looked around the room, searching him out but finding no-one there. Stubbornly she pushed aside the odd tinge of disappointment that whispered through her. Instead she focused on the fact that they were not at the Guardian Temple.

Yanking on the robe and doing up the fastenings, Tamina got to her feet and marched out of the hut she found herself in. Taking in the sand and huts that stretched around her, she confirmed that they were certainly not at the Guardian Temple. They were nowhere near it. The sun was high in the sky, which was disorienting in itself. But as she looked she realized that she could have been asleep for a day, or two even! Fighting the urge to be sick, Tamina focused on the cold dread that filled her. She did not know where they were or even how she was going to find the Prince, all she knew was that when she did she was going to wring his neck. Turning towards the commotion she heard, Tamina set off towards the center of the strange place. It was loud and obnoxious, the perfect place for a romantic Persian prince who could not see the sense in saving the world.

As the crowds began to get thicker, Tamina focused only on finding Dastan. He was a Prince, though not in blood, and Prince's tended to be at the centers of crowds. Turning around, she looked at what the men were crowding about. Over the heads of a few shorter ones she could see birds racing along the track. Ostrich racing. Breathing in she smelled the desert and something foul, something that smelled faintly like fermented goat's milk. Raising her eyebrows at the foolishness around her she turned and looked for Dastan. Sure enough he was easy to spot in a high pavilion, speaking to a fat greasy man who roared with laughter. A tall man with dark skin touched the fat man's shoulder, saying something. The two walked away, leaving Dastan alone. Tightening her robe, Tamina marched to the stairs and walked up to where the Prince was waiting.

Tamina walked into the pavilion. Dastan's back was to her, his forearms resting on the wall that ran around the enclosure. Gone were his wedding clothes, replaced by the browns and reds he was far more comfortable in. His hair had been taken out of its tail, now it fell unbound to his shoulders. She could see the lines of exhaustion on his face. He must have ridden all night to get her here. Anger flared in her. She was not sure where they were but she knew it was not the Guardian Temple. He had been willing to ride all night, to push himself and his brother's horse to exhaustion and yet it had been for nothing. The Dagger was still in danger. Marching forward, she strode over to him. He turned, his eyes widening at the sight of her as she closed the distance between them and glared up at him.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice filled with anger.

"We're in the Valley of the Slaves," he said.

"We're in the Valley of the Slaves?" she demanded, "you were supposed to take the knife to the Guardian Temple! Not into the most dangerous place in these wastelands!"

"You were bitten by a snake!" he shot back, voice loud with outrage, "I wasn't just going to take you to the Temple, I knew you could get help here!"

"Then you should have left me in the desert!" she cried, "you know what the Dagger can do! It needs to be protected and if I cannot do that then you must!"

"So I'm supposed to what?" he demanded, "leave you to die so that your precious Dagger can be safe? I'm supposed to choose between you and that gods-cursed knife?"

"Yes!" she shouted as he turned away, "and you are supposed to choose the Dagger! Not one woman-"

He turned so quickly she barely saw it and suddenly his mouth was on hers. Tamina's eyes widened at the kiss, her body stiffening in outrage at his actions but Dastan seemed to be past the point of caring. His mouth was insistent on hers and in spite of her anger, Tamina felt herself press into the kiss. He was shockingly good at what he did, as if he knew the perfect way to kiss her. But even so she could feel the underlying desperation in the action, as though he needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was still alive, that she was still there. His mouth all but claimed hers as his own and, Gods help her, Tamina realized she did not mind one bit. Not his strong arms pulled her closer or her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt. She could feel the pounding of his heart, matching the racing of her own.

And then, just as quickly as he had kissed her, he pulled back.

His arms remained on her waist, only his lips moved, coming to rest by her ear. Her body stiffened as the smell of him invaded her nose. She could smell the clinging perfume from their wedding preparations, mixed with the sands of the desert and, somehow, the smell of the marketplace. The scent was odd and wonderful and for reasons she could not understand the knot in her chest loosened further. His breath coursed down the back of her neck and she felt her fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt, her swollen lips pressing together as her body reacted against her will. His cheek, now rough with stubble, scraped against her own, the contrast of rough to smooth making her heart beat faster.

"You," he said to her, the deep whisper of his voice sending fire across her skin. He stopped, as though choosing his words, but when he spoke his tone was firm with certainty, "if I have to choose, Tamina, I will _always_ choose you."

Her eyes snapped open. Though her body still felt dizzy with his kiss, she drew back, looking up at him with as much anger as she could muster. His dark eyes searched her face. Tamina fought not to react to his proximity, to his softly parted lips or his searching gaze. Instead she tried for all she was worth to focus on his words, on what he had told her. That he would choose _her_ over the _Dagger_. The idea was ludicrous, not to mention insane. But the most frustrating thing about it was that even as her mind shouted outrage, her body leaned towards him. It was as if she was not in control of herself. As if he was somehow able to bypass her duties, her spirituality, her walls and see down to her very soul. That was the most outrageous part of it and it was her anger at that simple, troublesome talent of his that made her speak. Taking a breath, she raised her chin.

"Then you are a fool," she said to him, her hands dropping from his shirt.

"Its been suggested," he replied without missing a beat.

Her eyes widened at the easy way he spoke. As if there was any sense in choosing a single life over every other soul in the world. And yet she could see no humor in his eyes. He was not joking. He was serious. He would actually choose her, even though he knew better than anyone else the consequences of such a choice. She ignored the odd warmth that spread through her, focusing on the anger. The thought of so many dying so that one person-so that she-could live should not have spread warmth through her. She had a duty to perform and the way he was speaking went against everything she believed in. She could not think with him and the memory of what he had said so close, she had to get back. Even though the world was spinning faster than it had any right to. The entire world, it seemed, was conspiring against her and what she knew she must do.

"You-" she began, outrage in her voice as she started to move backwards but the world lurched to the side. She stumbled, he moved, his hands streaking out to steady her, "the Dagger-"

"Woah woah," he puller her easily back into his arms, "easy, its safe," one of his hands left her back to press into her forehead, "you're burning up."

"I'm fine," she snapped back. fighting the swaying of the world.

"You were poisoned by a snake. You're anything but fine," he told her firmly, bending down and hooking an arm under her knees.

"What are you-" she gasped, her hands locking around his neck as he pulled her into his arms, "put me down! " she shrieked, her hands holding onto him for all she was worth, though she knew he would die before he dropped her, "what are you doing?"

"Getting you back to bed," he said, turning and exiting the pavilion, heading towards the houses.

"I can walk!" she cried in protest as a few of the gamblers turned to stare at her exposed legs.

"Before you couldn't wait to get out of this place. Now you're running back to bed," he raised an eyebrow, "I think you've lost your sense of direction."

"I think you've lost your mind. Or maybe you didn't have one to begin with," she snapped.

"You can barely hold your head up. How are you going to ride to the Temple?" he asked.

"I-I can lean on the horse!"

"Lean on the horse? Between the two of us, Princess, I don't think there's a person in this place as mad as you."

"Except for the one carrying me!"

Dastan glared at her, a gesture she furiously returned. Black locks plastered to her forehead, the smell of sweat and herbs clinging to her and she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Fighting the urge to retort, Dastan focused instead on walking back to the houses and finding the right one. The Sheik had given him a house to stay in and he knew Tamna would be more comfortable there than in the old woman's smelly lair. Walking up the steps, he entered the room. His had more furniture and a low bed. Walking over to it, he deposited the seething Princess on the softness. She glared furiously at him. The moment he moved to step back, he saw her legs move. Instantly his hand was on her knee, preventing her from getting off the bed.

"I really don't want to have to waste rope in tying you down," he said looking at her.

"Why not? It seems I've already been held down once today-if today is even the same day you brought us to this place."

Shadows crossed his eyes as if he was reliving something terrible but Tamina pushed the need to comfort him aside. When he looked up at her he seemed just as frustrated with her as he had when carrying her back to the hut. Tamina ignored the way relief filled her as the shadows left his gaze and instead glared at him angrily.

"Good," he said, "then you'll know how much it'll hurt if I do it again," she opened her mouth in outrage, "you need to get some rest."

"I need to get the Dagger to the Secret Guardian Temple!"

"Well we're not going there today!" he said, bracing his hands on the bed and leaning over her, "so I suggest you get some rest because I can tell you from experience it'll be a much faster ride without you falling off the horse."

"Who says you're invited to come along?" she demanded, pushing herself up on her elbows.

His eyes scanned her face and for a moment Tamina wondered if he was going to insist they consecrate their wedding right then and there. He was leaning over her, at such an angle that his loose shirt dipped towards the bed. She could see the hard chest underneath it and in spite of how miserable she was feeling, her blood was racing to the fight and for a moment she wondered just what it would feel like to have his chest pressed against hers. In the next moment outrage filled her as she realized that, once again, her own body seemed to be in love with Dastan. It was not until she heard the whisper of silk and felt the robe move that she realized he was acting. Her eyes widened as she turned to see him withdraw the Dagger.

"You forget, Princess," he began, her title sounding more like an insult on his lips, "I've already been there."'

Turning around he walked towards the curtain. Tamina pushed herself up further only to feel the world spin worse. Even so she mustered the strength to shout after him.

"I'll follow you, you know! You can't lock a curtain!"

"And you can't stand," he pointed out turning around, "get some rest. The Dagger's in no more danger now than it will be in a few hours."

The curtain swung behind him. Furiously Tamina dropped back down to the pillows. She was not sure which she hated more, the fact that he had treated her like a child throwing a tantrum or the fact that underneath his retorts there had been actual kindness and concern for her well being. As she lay there Tamina decided that what she hated most of all was just how much she was attracted to him. She had been courted by Princes before, greasy, noble things with their curious hands and senses of entitlement. But she had never met a Prince like Dastan, one who did not act like a man who had grown up in a palace but someone who truly understood the way the world worked. No, she had never been courted-with a look at her henna covered hands, Tamina realized with a groan, that they were not courting.

They were married.

She had been so relieved that her wedding night was not going to be as torturous as the stories she had been told. And instead she wound up having to save the Dagger, scale the highest tower in Alamut, get bitten by a snake and taken to the Valley of the Slaves, all while wearing a garment specially designed for her new husband to rip off her. Her husband who looked at her not like a possession but like a man looked at a woman. Who was kind and noble in all the best ways and by far the most infuriating person she had ever encountered. If her aunt could see her now she would be laughing, reminding Tamina in her sing son voice just how her niece had always seen fit to take the hardest path she could find. Rumors of the Dagger's incredible power had sent countless men attempting to conquer Alamut, either through marriage to her or simply to try and take the Dagger itself. It always came down to the Dagger.

Only with Dastan, it seemed, it was all about her.

Not as a Guardian or a Princess but as herself. Her fate was so tied to the Dagger and the Sands she barely knew who she was without it. When Dastan looked at her, when he kissed her, when he told her he would choose a woman, her, over the Dagger, she did not know what to think. More than once she had thought to tell him it would not come to that, but he knew the truth. It had come to that, in a time she did not remember, and she had shown what she knew all along. That if it came down to the choice between her and the Dagger, the choice was the Dagger. The world instead of a girl seemed like a foolish trade. A single life had saved it a very long time ago, but a single life was not worth its destruction. None of the others who were sworn to protect the Dagger would hesitate to destroy it. Only the man who had protected it successfully would. Only her husband.

Turning on her side, Tamina pressed her face into the pillow, shifting to get comfortable. In spite of her best attempts not to fall asleep, there was no rage to focus on great enough to keep her from giving into the heaviness of her eyelids. before she could find a way to do keep herself awake, the pull of sleep became impossible to fight. Her eyes shut and she fell sound asleep before she could mutter more curses against the man who was her husband and his foolishness when it came to her.

A hand on her forehead pulled her out of sleep.

Tamina opened her eyes, turning her head to see Dastan leaning over her. She felt no jolt of fear at being woken, not by him. Her eyes left his face to glance around. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon. She had slept through the rest of the day and still she felt weariness pull at her. As she turned towards him, Dastan's hand moved with her, still pressed to her forehead.

"It just me," he said, his voice soft, "I didn't mean to wake you, I wanted to see if your fever went down."

"Did it?"

"You feel cooler," he said, withdrawing his hand and stepping back, "I asked for another room but the Sheik's charity only extends so far. You'd think the wedding cloths of a Persian Prince would buy you more," he shrugged, standing up.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Sleeping on the floor," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "if that's alright with you?" he asked looking up at her, his voice edged with sarcasm.

Tamina looked down at the traces of henna on her hand, feeling silly. She knew he was simply playing with her. She could blame her sadness on the fact that she still felt weak and shaky. And that she was still in the silly wedding night clothing. Dastan had made no move to comment on that, as if he could somehow sense her discomfort with the situation. He got to change, she was not so lucky. Not yet anyway. Still when he made to lower himself to the ground she found it in herself to speak.

"Don't," she said. He turned to look at her, "you haven't slept more than a night in a month," he made no move to come towards her or the bed, "its alright," she insisted before her voice lowered, "we are married after all," she added.

Dastan looked at her, his expression unreadable and for a moment she was sure he was going to say no. But he nodded slowly, walking over to the bed and sitting down to remove the boots he had managed to acquire. Tamina laid herself back down, making sure she was on one side of the bed. She felt the mattress dip under Dastan's weight as he swung his legs onto the bed. Cautiously Tamina looked over her shoulder at him. He was laying on his back, his eyes firmly on the ceiling. And yet even as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, his eyes darted away from the ceiling to look at her. Both looked away quickly, Tamina curling further on her side.

"You can get under the sheets if you want," she offered, looking at the wall even as she felt his eyes on her back, "I need you to be alert to protect the Dagger, you're no good to me exhausted."

"Well we wouldn't want that," Dastan said, sarcasm in his tone but she felt the bed move and a moment later he slid his legs under the sheets. One of his feet brushed against her leg and he snatched it back, "sorry," he mumbled.

Tamina said nothing. The air between their bodies was suddenly chilled. Dimly she realized that she must still be fighting the remnants of the fever. Pride told her to stay were she was, she did not need the Prince or the warmth she knew his body could give. Her body, however, seemed to have something different in mind. Slowly she inched back, just enough so that she could feel the warmth radiating off his back. For a moment she thought that she had inched back without him realizing it but, belatedly, she remembered he was a great warrior, though even a decent one would have noticed when the other occupant of a bed moved.

"Are you cold?" he asked, pushing himself onto his forearms and looking at her.

Her eyes widened at the inquiry before she yawned, acting as if she had woken at the sound of his voice.

"Hmm?" she tried to seem sleepy, "no, I'm fine. Go back to bed."

She heard a sound escape his lips, but whether it was amusement or frustration she did not know. Before she had a chance to react, he had turned to face her and moved the rest of the way so that her back was pressed against his chest. Tamina's eyes widened at the casual way his arm came around her waist, his body easily moving to fit hers. He was taller than her, that much was clear, but when they were lying down it hardly seemed to matter. Their bodies lined up perfectly, her form fitting against his so easily it seemed almost criminal. After all that had happened a part of her did not want to fit so perfectly into his embrace. The other part of her, well, she did not care to listen to that part at the moment. Dastan moved a bit to get comfortable before settling down against her back.

"Dastan what are you doing?" she asked, feeling his body against hers.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, "you're cold and you're recovering from a fever. I'm not sure what we'd have to do to get another blanket and the entire city's drunk anyway," he frowned, moving against the bed, "Lift your head," he said.

"Lift my what?" she demanded, lifting her head to look at him as his arm came out to lay across her shoulder.

"Thanks," he said.

Tamina stared at him for a moment before cautiously laying her head down, shifting to get comfortable against his arm. Deciding it was far too firm to be any kind of pillow, she tugged the one she was laying on further down so that his arm fit along her neck. Then it was comfortable for the both of them, loathe as she was to admit such a thing. She kept her eyes open, glaring at the wall before the warmth of his body began to seep into hers, overtaking the chill that seemed to have taken place in her bones. She could feel his heart and the rise and fall of his chest against her back. He was a warrior and a street rat before that, easily able to catch sleep where and when he could. The rhythm of his breathing steadied out as the Prince easily fell asleep.

Tamina lingered in consciousness, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. He was the most confusing man she had ever met. A street rat who became a Prince. One who was both conqueror and saviour of her city. A man who claimed not to love her and yet had shown he was willing to risk the world to see her safe. He did not treat her like an idol, like an ideal turned flesh and blood. In spite of all she had done to help him, of how she had taken on the role of Guardian to his warrior, he still treated her like a human. It had been impossibly long since, well, since anyone had treated her like a person. Made of flesh and blood, with all the fears and doubts and emotions, same as anyone else. It was so strange, she did not know what to think of the way he treated her only that she had a feeling he would have some choice words about it. That or he would lean forward and kiss her in that way that made her entire body tingle. All of those things seemed only to have Dastan as their common factor. The same Dastan whose arm sleepily tightened about her waist, pulling her fractionally closer to his chest as though to keep her safe.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Tamina finally let her eyes close. She had never shared a bed with a man before, even if that man was her husband. His body really was warm, warm and firm against her back. The steady rise and fall of his chest was enough to lull her closer to sleep as her own breathing slowly matched his. Just for a night, just in the circle of his arms, Tamina let herself feel relieved and grateful that Dastan _had_ chosen to save her. She knew she would choose the Dagger, but in an odd way it was flattering that someone had chosen to save its Guardian instead. The way he had said that to her, that he would always choose her, she knew he meant it. No-one had ever said that to her before and for the life of her she could not deny the warmth that filled her at the thought, even if disgust immediately followed it. No-one could argue the foolishness of choosing a single life over all the others in the world. And yet Dastan had vowed to make that choice. It was stupid and dizzying and Tamina still had no idea why she felt the way she did at the sound of his promise. But all of that would come with the sun. In the morning, she could go back to yelling at him and make sure they got the Dagger safety to the Temple, Dastan's emotions aside. But all of that, it would all be dealt with in the morning. For tonight there was only them, only the room, only the warmth of his chest and the safety of his arms.

The last thing Tamina did before falling asleep was to lay her hand over his.

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**Okay everybody say "Awww!" **

**So I know I said I'd have Amar and Seso in this chapter but writing Tamina and her at least attempting to deal with the confusing feelings she's got for Dastan kind of commandeered it. Sorry about that. i promise they'll be in the next chapter. I've got a really funny scene planned for him that includes his reaction to something that Tamina and Dastan haven't *ahem* done yet. Which they are totally going to do. YES for everyone asking, there is going to be a wedding night scene. I haven't decided if I wanna go full M or not, but I promise it'll be totally awesome. And in a few chapters (after the wedding scene) we get back to Garsiv, Bis and Tus. Which'll be awesome too because, lets face it, Garsiv makes EVERYTHING awesome. Seriously he might be my favorite character from the movie, especially at the end. Woot woot for older siblings giving their younger ones crap (because I do it to my younger sister all the time).**

**Okay now its time to review! People are starting to see the beauty of this mutually beneficial relationship which makes it even more awesome because it works. You want to find out what happens, I want to write what happens and your reviews just get us to that point faster! I know some people didn't make the review cut for last chapter because, well, obviously I wrote and put up two chapters in the span of a few hours. But, regardless, please review! Remember when you review you are keeping my attention on this fic and that means updates for you! **

**So please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Before we get started I have to address something, consider it a public service announcement. ANYONE who reviews this story and has insults directed at me personally and/or the reviewers of this story in their comments will have their review reported or deleted. I do not tolerate those kinds of people here and I certainly do not listen to their advice. Your other comments will be ignored, simple as that. For the individuals who have displayed this childish behavior, please note this message is not an invitation for a reply. Furthermore I will not respond in my story past this message. If you do reply you will only be confirming my incredibly low opinion of you. So please stop wasting my time and yours. Move onto the next story. **

**While the rest of us in Sadalsuud-land go onto fun stuff!**

**Sorry about that guys and gals, but it had to be said. Okay, so, for the record, I agree with what everyone's saying about the Prince. If Dastan (or Jake Gyllenhaal for that matter) came up to me I would be in love with him faster than you could say 'world', let alone save it. That dude is FINE. (I'd also take Garsiv and/or Bis. Hell, give me all three and we'll just call it even). In pleasant anonymous review land, Deepshikha, I get what you're saying about Tamina. Trust me the temptation to make her uber-fiesty is there but I want to show something more in terms of her emotions. She's also tired and confused. But she'll get feistier soon. Also, someone directed me to an AMV for Dastan and Tamina featuring a song called "Utopia" by Within Temptation and it is now one of my favorite songs for the pairing. **

**Also, damn you guys rocked with the reviews! Seriously I am blown away by you pumping them out, so blown away I'm updating again! Love how that works right? You rock, I rock and we are all awesome! Oh and thank you for your input on the wedding night scene! Its much appreciated.**

**Now back to the story!**

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The sun woke Dastan.

It burned across his eyes, forcing him from the deep slumber he had been in. A deep, blissfully nightmare free slumber that made him feel as though he did not want to wake up again. He kept his eyes closed as the rest of his body awoke, feigning sleep as he took in his surroundings. He knew he was in the Valley of the Slaves, in a hut with a wooden floor. As he laid there he listened for the creak of floorboards. If someone was there to kill him they would not step forward, but they would shift their weight. But there was no sound of someone shifting or readying a weapon. He knew that he was alone in the room.

Slowly Dastan opened his eyes, directing his gaze downwards to see a crown of black hair. Waking up with her did not feel strange. He remembered falling asleep with her body pulled against his. Sometime in the middle of the night he had rolled onto his back and Tamina had come with him. Now he lay there, one arm around the Princess tucked against his side. Her head was on his chest, he could feel her breath against his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. She looked peaceful, but younger as well. Not like a priestess in a temple, full of serenity. She looked younger, more carefree, as if the weight of the Dagger did not press on her as heavily when she was lost to her dreams.

He still did not know what to make of the Tamina laying in his arms. She had told him that things with the Dagger were rarely clear but even he was ill prepared for just how confusing it was. Sometimes it seemed as if he knew much more about her than she did of him, that the experiences they shared made him somehow understand her better than she understood him. But then she would do something that would surprise him, that would remind him in spite of all that had happened they had only known each other for a few days and a fair amount of that time they had been trading barbs, fighting each other and while she had been shouting he was an idiot he had been praying to every God he had ever heard of that he would not turn around and kill her himself.

As if aware he had been thinking about her, Tamina shifted slightly against him, her lips parting as her finger tightened against his. Dastan looked over to see that their hands were resting on his chest, their fingers intertwined. In the sun he could see the henna that clung to her skin, henna that still marked her as a bride. As _his_ bride. The relief he had felt at seeing her alive had faded to disappointment that she was different from the woman who had so easily and loudly told him how he was being an idiot. But every time without fail when he did something she did not like, she had no problem with snapping at him. He had spoken to Princess's before, but they had all been too occupied with looking beautiful and sounding flirtatious to hold a proper conversation. Sometimes he said something outlandish, just to see if they would react but all they did was laugh merrily and lean closer as though he had said the most interesting, attractive thing to ever. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he said something outlandish to Tamina she would laugh-but it would not be merry-and she would just ask if he hit his head or, failing that,if he was really just that stupid.

For some reason the thought of her yelling at him made him smile. There was really nothing that could slow the vivacious woman snuggled against him down. She was determined, beautiful, she was truly amazing. He shoved any thoughts of the Dagger aside. She was blinded by the need to keep it safe, but as he held her against his frame he realized he too was blinded. Not by the need to keep the Dagger safe, as far as he was concerned it could fall to the pits of Hell and he'd be glad to see it gone. But when it came to Tamina, that was an entirely different matter. He had said he would do anything to see her safe, that if the choice was between the world and her, he would choose her. He knew he would have clung to the rock face, that he would have held onto her knowing full well what the consequences for such a choice were. Consequences he would have accepted gladly, if only to see her safe.

He looked down at her thoughtfully. There were moments when he was sure she put up with him for reasons only she knew, reason probably connected to the stupid Dagger. And then there were moment when she looked at him as though she actually cared about him. Every kiss he had given her had been met with eagerness, every heated embrace returned by her soft form. And yet whenever it seemed as though they were going to move forward, one of them stalled or jumped back. Arguments, bantering, the world ending, all of it seemed to conspire to hold them in the position they were in. But for the moment, he could at least enjoy the few hours of peace as the woman in his arms slept.

Slowly he drifted off.

The first thing that Tamina was aware of when she woke was that pillows did not breath. Nor did they pulse with a steady, hypnotic rhythm. Nor were they soft and warm, certainly not as warm as the one she found herself laying on. Carefully Tamina peeped her eyes open. It was easy to do so this time and even laying there she realized that the dizziness and weakness she had felt the day before was so small it was barely worth thinking about. Whatever herbs were wrapped around her bite had done wonders. Slowly she raised her eyes up towards Dastan's features, though the steadiness of his breath and pulse made her sure he was asleep.

He looked younger in sleep, the lines that graced his face smoothed out by peace. The scar on his cheek stood out clearer, making him seem even younger, like a child who had been in a fight. Slowly she moved her hand to raise it up, only to find that it was held by another. Her eyes moved to see that his fingers were entwined with hers, the callouses of his palm pressed against the softness of her own. He held her hand tight against his chest, beside his heart where her head rested. Without the finery that had marked their wedding, he seemed even more comfortable. He was still a child of the streets, even though she knew the true heart of a Prince lay within him. The heart of a great man.

A great and foolish man.

His words echoed back to her with shocking clarity. He had lost her once and every single action had proven that he was unwilling to loose her again. Even if he had not said the words he had, she would know it was true. But he had said that he would choose her over the Dagger, he had declared it and now it was forever burned into her mind, body and soul. Someone would choose the Guardian over the Dagger, one soul over all the others in the world. And that was not the worst of it. No, the worst of it was that the moment the words left his lips she realized that she had been desperate to hear them, almost without knowing it. She had wanted him to say them, to tell her that she mattered more than a gift from the Gods.

What a fool she was.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Tamina pressed her face into his chest, her heart both dropping and soaring as she felt his arm tighten further around her, pulling her closer to him. Gods help her, she wanted him to want her. To choose her. To risk what he had to see her safe. It went against everything she believed in, everything she had been trained to do. She had thought if the day came when she would have to give her life for the Dagger she would find some kind of peace or serenity in the action, in the knowledge that the world would be safe with her sacrifice. Yet now the idea of doing something to separate from him filled her with dread. He defied everything to do with the Dagger and yet both their fates were inexplicably linked to it. Slowly she raised her eyes. She had promised that for one night she could indulge in the feeling of him choosing her, but in the morning she had to resume her duty. And yet as she lifted her head from his chest the mantle of Guardian suddenly seemed impossibly heavy.

They were still in the Valley of the Slaves, still not at the Guardian Temple and judging from the angle of the sun she knew it was closer to mid day than dawn. She had to fix this and she had to do it quickly. Carefully Tamina unwound her fingers from his, making to move her palm away. He stirred at the touch, his hand tightening against hers. Inwardly swearing, Tamina looked around. She needed something, something warm and soft that he could hold onto instead of her hand. Taking a breath, she looked down at her clothing. Something warm and soft. Her eyes found nothing within an arm's reach. Angrily she looked down, her eyes locking on the flimsy garment she wore. There was no other choice, she had to protect the Dagger. Letting out her breath in a huff, Tamina reached up to the back of her neck with her free hand and slowly undid the knot at the back of her neck.

Dastan woke to someone moving against him. Blinking open his hazy eyes, he looked down to see Tamina slowly opening her eyes. They must have moved again in their sleep, the sheets further tangling around them. Tamina stiffened before sleepily looking up at him. Even just waking up her eyes seemed clearer. She was not still foggy with pain and fever, the night's sleep doing the rest of the work. Relief swelled in him as he looked at her. A smile played on her lips as she titled her head to look up at him. Through the sheet around her body, his fingers tightened against her but she did not seem to mind.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice heavy with sleepiness, "how do you feel?"

"Better," she said softly, "how about you?" he nodded. She rested her head against his chest for a moment before looking up at him and speaking again, "Dastan where's the Dagger?"

"Its safe," he said. She kept her eyes on him,. Letting out a breath of frustration his fingers untangled from the fabric and reached up behind him, pulling the Dagger out from under the pillow, "believe me now?" he asked.

Her hand shot up and caught the Dagger. With a quick, sharp motion she yanked it out of his hand, pulling it to her chest. He moved to sit up but she was already on her knees. Reaching out she place her hand on his chest, firmly pushing him back to the bed. He was taller and more muscular but she was faster and, apparently, she had planned for this. There was no other explanation as she grabbed his wrist and moved it before she pulled something white and long taut and suddenly his hands were immobilized. Dastan stared up at his hands, hands that had been expertly knotted into what could only be a bed sheet. Nimbly Tamina stood, tying the white fabric off somewhere behind the bed and Dastan realized that he was effectively tied to the bed.

"I believe that this still isn't safe," she said holding up the Dagger, "and I am going to fix that."

Dastan glared furiously at her, his hands tugging on the bed sheet but Tamina knew it was useless. She could tie a good knot. He was stuck to the bed, at least for as long as it would take her to get a horse and be on her way. Still he made a valiant, swear filled attempt at getting free. Feeling self satisfied, Tamina crossed her arms over her sheet wrapped chest and watched him struggle before his furious gaze found hers. Anger flared in his eyes, clearly he did not like getting bested and certainly not by a Princess and a bed sheet. Tamina tightened her fingers on the Dagger, fighting the urge to grin at the sight of him looking quite so ridiculous.

"So you're going to ride to the Temple dressed in a sheet?" Dastan demanded, tugging at the bed sheet imprisoning him.

"It covers more than the robe you were clutching," she said, fighting the urge to tighten the secure knot she had tied in the fabric, "I can't waste anymore time in this place," she added under her breath.

"You can't just take the Dagger to the Temple by yourself!"

"I assure you that I can! And it will be easier if I go alone-which is what I should have done in the first place," she said shaking her head at her own foolishness, though when she looked at him there was something almost pitying in her gaze, "I have to make sure the Dagger is safe," she said, though her voice made it clear the statement was as much for herself as it was for him. She turned around and stepped towards the door.

"Tamina wait," he said, his voice edged with enough desperation to make her foot pause.

Raw pain filled her at the tone of his voice. It was the same tone that he had used when telling her about the memories, when confessing how haunted he was at seeing her die over and over again. Even as her stomach tightened with the sound of his voice, anger filled her. He was making her doubt everything she knew she _must_ do. How dare he do that. How dare he be able to make her doubt and swoon and feel all the things she had always been able to control. How dare her name on his lips make her feet pause and her pulse quicken as doubt swirled through her at the idea of doing what she must. She turned so fast her hair flared, her fingers gripping the Dagger so tightly it was a wonder the glass did not break.

"Don't you dare!" she said, crossing the room back to the bed, "don't you dare look at me and tell me that you'll choose me over the world. You can't-you can't _do_ that!" she cried, ignoring the volume of her voice.

Dastan stared at her, shocked at the pain he saw etched on her face. Suddenly the most troubling thing about being tied to the bed was not that he could not go after her but that he could not comfort her. Her grip on the Dagger was tight, as though it was the last real thing she had to hold onto. Gone was the calm assurance of the Guardian, the woman who selflessly put her own questions aside for the duty she bore. In its place was a frightened, furious woman who seemed to be fighting against her very heart. Tamina closed her eyes tightly, turning her face away from his as she valiantly gathered her wits about her. When she opened her eyes they were still raw and bright with emotion but the determination in them was stronger than both of those.

"Tamina-" he began, struggling even harder, terrified at what she was going to do, "wait, listen to me-"

Tamina looked at him, willing herself to be strong. Even he could sense the change in the air between them. But she had meant her words. He could not look at her like he did, speaking the words that seemed to come from his lips so naturally. Not when she was expected to perform the duties that she had been trained to do for so long. Because when she looked at him Tamina did not feel brave or strong or calm, she felt vulnerable. She felt like he looked at her, like a human being with flaws and strengths. It was too much, after all that had happened in the past few days. She could not have him look at her the way that he did and know if the choice had to be made he would make the wrong one.

"No," she said looking down at him, "you listen to me. You may be stupid enough to choose one life over all the others but I am not. You said you would choose me," her hand moved against the Dagger, "but I will choose the Dagger," she paused, letting her words sink in as cold dread filled him, "every time, I'll choose it."

The raw fear in his eyes echoed the feeling that had inexplicably filled her. But they both knew the truth in her words. He had witnessed it first hand and she knew that if it came down to it she would make the same choice. Because there was no choice. The world for a soul, no matter how precious, it was not a trade. It would be a massacre. The idea of separating from him was suddenly torture but the consequence of what would happen if she did not was much worse. Before her resolve could falter any further, she turned towards the curtain, intent on riding so fast that she would not stop until she got to the Temple. She hurried forward, one hand moving towards the curtain when a voice stopped her.

"Sheik Amar you cannot go in there-" a female voice protested.

"Cannot go in there? No, what I cannot do is listen to this. If I have to hear one more yell from this hut I swear I'm going to take that knife of yours, yes you, you know the one with your face on it, and throw it into my own chest,"

"That is not a throwing knife."

"Yeah, well, its got a wide target and it'll have to do," the man she had called Sheik Amar said, shoving the curtain aside and stepping into the hut. His eyes widened as he took in the scene of Dastan tied to the bed with a sheet, the other wrapped around Tamina. His eyes moved over her before going to Dastan and then back to her, "forgive me if I'm wrong girl but aren't you supposed to be on top of him once you've got him tied up?"

Tamina opened her mouth in outrage before shutting it as the large black man stepped into the shadows. She could see a dozen knives glinting in the edges of his sleeves, another with an ivory handle stuck into the front of his robe. The tall, silent dark man was a shocking contrast to the fat, greasy, loud man in front of her, though when both their eyes took in her form Tamina could barely see the differences between them. She barely had time to stuff the knife in the back of her dress, hoping that her hair would cover what her makeshift clothing was unable to. Amar's eyes went between the two of them once more before he shook himself and walked further in. Tamina took a step backwards but the Sheik seemed to be more interested in dealing with Dastan.

"People come here to get away from their yelling wives. Yelling wives make for upset men. Upset men don't gamble as much money," he continued, "which is a problem in itself. But then they get upset and if they get upset my birds get upset. And I'm sure you can appreciate where that would be problematic for me."

"Of course," Dastan said, "a little help?" he asked nodding upwards.

"Persians," Amar rolled his eyes, "wonder anyone gives you anything but a boot up your ass," he looked at Seso, "cut him free."

Seso drew back his hand. There was the sound of metal and air and suddenly the sheet that had tied Dastan's wrists was severed. The Prince sat up, immediately getting to his feet. Amar crossed his arms over his wide girth and looked at the Prince. By the time Dastan looked up at the Sheik, there were no traces of worry or anger or sadness in his eyes. Still there was little humor in the eyes of Amar, who seemed less than thrilled that his business had once again been threatened by the crazy Persian Prince.

"People come here for a different kind of yelling," Amar said finally.

"But of course," Dastan said, quickly moving to stand next to her, "next time we'll be quieter, won't we dear?"

As he spoke his calloused hand touched her shoulder, sliding easily under the curtain of her hair. Tamina knew what he was going to do before he did it, just as she also knew that if she said anything the Dagger would be taken from them. The smooth metal of the dagger slid up her spine as he easily pulled it free, feeding it into his sleeve. Amar didn't see anything, neither did Seso. Tamina held herself very still as the blade slowly dragged harmlessly free from the makeshift dress she had crafted. When it was free,Dastan's calloused fingers slowly brushed against the bare skin of her spine and even in her anger, shivers raced across her skin at the feel of his fingertips.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" Amar questioned, neither spoke and disgust crossed his features, "I know the difference between angry yelling and the other kind. Are you two even married?"

"Yes," Dastan said.

"No," Tamina answered at the same time.

Both glared at each other as Amar looked between them, his face thoughtful. When neither supplied a solid answer, however, his patience once again wore thin and he threw his hands up with a swear of disgust.

"Well which is it? Are you married or aren't you?"

"We're married," Dastan said, glaring at Tamina before looking at Amar.

"Too bad," Amar said with a shrug, "after that first night it all goes down hill, eh?"

Dastan suddenly found the wall very interesting as Tamina coughed lightly, her eyes firmly on the ground. Amar looked between the two of them, at first only sensing that he was missing something. As they continued to neither look at each other or him, the sense that something was off turned to disbelief and finally settled on the fact that the Prince was beyond insane. He looked between the two of them once more, trying to find some indication that they were joking but if they were, neither found it funny. Turning his head Amar looked at Seso. The Ngbaka shrugged his shoulders, looking skyward in what could only be a prayer against the evil that inhabited the room. Amar fixed his attention on the girl. Tamina was still looking steadfastly at the ground but her eyes darted upwards to look at him.

"If you want out of the marriage, I know a guy. Prince or not, he's good at handling this sort of thing. Really, owes me a favor-"

"I'm fine, thank you," Tamina said.

"Then why-"

"There hasn't been the time, alright?" Dastan said, his voice tense and embarrassed.

"Your brother, that future King, he married those last two hags and he still found the time," Amar said. Dastan blanched, looking like he wanted nothing more than to take the Dagger and stab himself in the throat, "what's the problem? Don't got a good grip on your sword?"

Tamina pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to laugh as any remaining color left the Princes face at the suggestion. He opened his mouth, presumably to defend himself, but shut it, thinking that if he spoke to defend himself he was just going to inspire the Sheik to press further. Between being questioned about his brothers sex life and being inquired about his own, Dastan looked dangerously close to being sick. Tamina had seen Tus's last two wives with her own eyes and, loathe as she was to admit it, they were not great beauties, not to anyone save, perhaps, a blind man. And then only until he touched their faces. Tamina glanced around but between the heavily armed knife thrower by the one visible exit and the fact that Dastan was in possession of the Dagger, her plans of a quick escape to the Guardian Temple were all but gone.

"I'm afraid, noble Sheik," Tamina said, "that the bite on my ankle put a dent in our," she stopped, casting about for the right word, "in our plans," she finished, drawing the man's attention away from the miserable Dastan.

He examined her again, his eyes moving up and down her body in a way that had Tamina fighting not to cross her arms over her chest. She kept her hands by her side and held the Sheik's gaze with her own, focusing on keeping her features smooth. Finally Amar nodded as though he understood what she was saying.

"Snakes, troublesome things," he continued, "well this just isn't right for the two of you. Young lovers, newlyweds at that, who aren't able to consummate their love. It damn near breaks my heart," he said dramatically, "and I can see the toll its having on you."

"Oh its perfectly fine-" Tamina began, "we actually-"

"Have nowhere else to be," Dastan cut in artfully, looking at the Sheik and only at him, not at the furious look Tamina was shooting his way.

"Good good," he said, "then you'll stay for the party tonight."

Tamina opened her mouth to say that they were not staying for any party but closed it juts as quickly. Dastan had the Dagger. Worse, all the clothing that she had was a sheet tied around her. But the party, that would give her an opportunity. She could distract Dastan, get the Dagger, find a horse and be dressed in proper clothing. As she looked at the sheet wrapped around her, Tamina realized that the ride would go much faster if she was wearing actual clothing designed for riding. She could sneak away much easier, especially if Dastan was celebrating. She could get away and make her way to the Guardian Temple. The party would be a distraction and, she hoped, a better one than any of her previous attempts. Biting back the desire to tell Dastan he was being an idiot and Amar that they had to be somewhere important, somewhere like saving the world, she pressed her lips together and managed a smile when the Sheik's eyes found her. He looked at her, quiet for a moment but his face wasn't unkind when he spoke.

"Maybe we should also get you a bath."

* * *

**Okay so the pressure is ON! Next time is the, well, you all have been screaming for it so I'm guessing you know what it is. Of course our favorite pair has a little bit of, uh, stuff to work through. Especially since Tamina made it clear that Dastan could choose her but she'd choose the Dagger. I'm guessing he doesn't like that very much!**

**You guys rocked so hard in review-land it made my head spin! Please PLEASE keep it up! You review, I want to update and everyone walks away happy! Come on and support our mutually beneficial relationship! Because its working so awesomely on both ends! **

**So please review! **


	9. Chapter 9

**You guys are AWESOME! I can't believe you got a movie category so fast! Hot damn you rule! I kept getting messages about it and I promise I'll be moving this story over there very soon. My internet's kinda wonky right now and it usually takes me a couple of tries to post a new chapter but I'll try to get this story over there. I've just been too busy with the wedding night scene! Now as you noticed this story is still a T so no hard M sexy time but don't worry, its still good. I do want everyone to be able to enjoy it. **

**Anonymous people, Ayama- As I said, I do not listen to the opinions of people who insult me as a person and/or my reviewers. Your decision to ignore my note and submit another review has made it clear that you are not the kind of person whose opinion holds value to me and by continuing to review you are only furthering the unpleasantness of this situation for everyone involved. I will not respond to any further reviews you may submit and turn my story into an argument between us. All future reviews will simply be deleted, though I sincerely hope there are none. Silvercharm-Girl Scouts in the Desert? LOL! I've got a very funny mental imagine right now! **

**ALSO omigosh you rocked with reviews! I've never been a part of a situation like this before and it is working out so beautifully it makes my head spin! Keep it up you guys and I'll keep up my end! Woot woot for our relationship! And the song suggestions! YES for those! I listen to music when I write. My current jam for this story is still Utopia by Within Temptation but I love the songs that have been suggested. Music is so awesome for writing. My classical album for this is totally the Children of Dune soundtrack. For this chapter though, i was listening to Wicked's "As long as you're mine." Oh and at the end I'll give you guys a playlist of the songs that have been used in this story. **

**Now back to the story!**

* * *

If there was one thing the Valley of the Slaves seemed to know how to do exceptionally well, it was throw a party.

As Dastan walked alongside the Sheik, he was mesmerized by the place he found himself in. Bright curtains had been throw over the edge of every house, as though even the structures wanted to be dressed for the occasion. False silks, fake jewels, none of it seemed to matter as people decked themselves out for the party. Ugly beautiful, old, or young short or tall, the people there were as mismatched as the clothes they wore and the cups they drank from. What truly made him gape was the assortment in what he saw. He recognized styles of dress from a dozen different provinces, food from a dozen more. Every corner of his father's Empire seemed to have found its way in to the tax free paradise of the Valley of the Slaves. But as strange as that was, it was not the strangest part of the party he found himself in.

The strangest part was that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

There were no servants standing against the walls, looking like statues until you needed them. The men who poured sauce on the meat were laughing with their friends and pouring liquor liberally down their throats. They were enjoying the party as much as the people sitting clustered around fires. He recognized the Ostrich Maidens, laughing and serving the clay cups filled with goat's milk. One threw her head back and laughed at something a man said, the feathers in her hair falling backwards. The main snatched the ornament and placed it squarely atop his own head as the group laughed loudly at his antics. Dastan watched the chaos with a smile, feeling oddly at home among the vagabonds and gamblers gathered there.

"See this is how you throw a party," Amar said, turning and grabbing two cups off the woman's tray.

"What's the occasion?" Dastan asked, taking the one offered to him.

"Do we need one?" Amar laughed, raising his glass in a toast before throwing half the liquor back.

Dastan copied him and immediately regretted it as he remembered there was nothing in his stomach. The liquor went straight to his head, making it spin as he lowered it down. The concoction was also absolutely vile, burning his throat as it slid down to pool like fire in his stomach. He had never been one for goats milk, much less fermented goats milk. His disgust must have shown on his face as Amar threw his head back and laughed loudly, clapping Dastan roughly on the shoulders.

"Don't got the stomach for it?" Amar asked with a loud laugh, "no wonder you haven't done anything with that girl of yours."

Dastan poured the rest of the goat's milk down his throat, wondering if he would ever live it down. The moment one glass was empty another was pushed in his hands. Amar watched him drink with unabashed enjoyment before he led the Prince towards one of the fires. Downing his own cup of milk, Amar wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked at the Prince.

"You know for royalty, you aren't half bad," he said, "not afraid to get your hands dirty. I never understood why people were afraid to get their hands dirty."

"I think its because I'm adopted," Dastan said.

"No kidding," Amar said as though he did not know. Dastan raised an eyebrow, "well its not as if your father made it a secret," Amar said before disgust edged his tone, "and your uncle," he turned and spat on the ground, "its a wonder he didn't wring your neck bringing you back there, traitorous bastard."

Dastan looked at him, not truly surprised by his actions. People had taken to cursing his Uncle and spitting or making signs against evil when they said his name, as though saying it would somehow bring the man to them. Even Bis had taken up the practice when they were in the shadows of the training fields. Though anyone who came within ten feet of the King knew better than to speak Nizam's name. Even though he did not take in the practice, Dastan could not help but see the sense in cursing Nizam's name. The betrayal was still raw and he had no doubt that his Uncle's hand was in the Hassansin's decision to attack. Even from the grave Nizam's treachery haunted them.

But what truly made Dastan sick was not his foolishness in trusting his Uncle but his willingness in believing Tus had been the one to betray him. Their father had been harder on his future heir than either of his younger sons but Tus had never shown an ill will towards the King. On the contrary, every word of advice was heeded, every chiding was taken and in the rare moments when their father praised him, Tus immediately looked ten years younger. It had been Tus's blade that saved his life, he had not seen Nizam pull the knife free. But Tus had and without a thought to the fact Nizam was their Uncle and his father's Vizier, he had killed the man. Tus had always been protective of the two of them, willing to get in the middle of his fights with Garsiv on the rare occasions when they turned malicious. When Garsiv had demanded to know if their father had haggled for the peasant he brought back from the market, Tus had cuffed him on the ear before their father had finished turning around.

"What's done is done," Amar said, pulling him out of his thoughts, "kingdom's better off without him," he down the rest of the milk and reached for another, "say, that girl of yours, she's a feisty one," Amar said with a shake of his head.

"You have no idea," Dastan said darkly, "by the way, what are your girls doing to her?"

Around mid day women had surrounded Tamina and all but dragged her to a different part of the city to get cleaned and changed. She had looked at him with a combination of terror and apprehension but all he had done was wave, certain that she would not be running off so long as he held onto the Dagger. The look she had given him was so full of disgust and venom it had almost brought a smile to his lips and the thought of asking Amar if his girls could dress her up like an Ostrich Maiden crossed his mind. That had been hours ago and Dastan had not seen her since. A glance at the sky told him it was past dusk and while there were many things about women he did not understand, he did not think it took so long for someone to get ready for a party.

"Don't worry, if there's one thing my girl's know how to do, its place dress up."

Dastan raised an eyebrow as Amar looked over his shoulder and let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"And what a pretty doll you've given them to play with."

Dastan turned his head and suddenly all thoughts of speaking fled from his head.

They had not dressed her up like them. Compared to the rest of the women gathered there she was dressed far more modestly. The long skirt she wore was a deep violet, edged in silver along the hem and on either side of the slit that reached high on her thigh. When she walked and the fabric swayed, the length of her leg was teasingly visible. A wide belt of silver, violet and blue wound around her hips, holding the skirt in place. Her top was short, revealing the tan length of her stomach, the bronze of her skin contrasting the soft, cool colors of the fabric. The short shirt she wore was a deep blue, silver embroidery gracing the tops of her arms, the gentle dip of the neck, even the hem of the shirt that rode high on her ribcage. The clothing was exquisite but what caught Dastan's eye was her hair.

Unbound the ebony locks fell past the middle of her back in an unbroken ebony wave. It looked as if the women had found a way to take the night itself and wrap it around Tamina. The soft, cool colors of her clothing were a sharp contrast to the warmth of her skin and as he stared at her Dastan fought desperately to remember just how many cups of milk had been shoved into his hand. Tamina's eyes seemed to be everywhere but on his as she walked forward with the women who escorted her towards him. Dastan found it impossible to breathe or think or do anything but helplessly stare at her. She must have known he was staring, but her eyes seemed determined to look elsewhere, as if looking at him would be like admitting some great weakness.

"You, my dear, are absolutely stunning," Amar said spreading his hands when she came close, "I think you've rendered the poor boy stupid."

"Oh I don't think Dastan requires any help to do that," Tamina said standing next to him.

Amar threw his head back with a loud laugh as Dastan shook off his stupor. He looked over at her but she refused to look his way. It was not a clear thing and if it had been anyone else he wouldn't have thought it was on purpose. But every time his gaze moved towards her she would look at the chaos or Amar or one of the woman nearby. They were perfect excuses but Dastan could see them as just that: excuses. She knew that he would confront her about her words, either that or she would try to get the Dagger and leave. He could feel the weight of it resting against his spine. When the next cups of milk came around, he made sure he did not drink anymore. He was going to find a way to get her to look at him, to speak to him, to not go through with whatever blinded plan she was coming up with.

"Ha! That's probably true," Amar said with a laugh.

Tamina looked at the Sheik. This night was not going as she had planned. For one, even she could see that riding across the desert dressed as she was, was asking for nothing but trouble. If she was dressed in a sheet she could feign an emergency or a tragedy, she could get help. Dressed in fine clothing, _revealing_ fine clothing at that, was nothing more than a recipe for disaster. She had known that they would dress her for her supposed impending wedding night, but even she could not have foreseen just how bad the situation was. Worse still, she had no idea where the Dagger was. Dastan could have had it on him but she would not have put it past him to be foolish enough to leave it in a place he considered 'safe'. An opinion she did not share. She had to get the Dagger, a horse and perhaps a pair of pants-though all three were out of her grasp.

When someone pressed a cup of something into her hand, Tamina poured it down her throat. It was disgusting, vile and yet her pride got her throat to work. The liquor hit her hard but she shoved that aside. She was out of ideas and, worse, they were running out of time. The hopelessness of the situation pressed down on her, threatening to undo her. So she grabbed the next cup that came her way and poured it down her throat. It was easier to look elsewhere that way, even as Dastan continued to try and hold her gaze with his own. But she could not look at him, not when every time she did he seemed to be able to make her resolve falter and her heart beat faster. Gods, what if she actually had to go through with the wedding night? The thought was enough to make her finish the cup in her hand. If she actually had to-to do that, she did not know what she was going to do. If she gave herself to him, it could very well be her undoing.

"Okay girls, come on," Amar said getting to his feet, "I think we might be killing the mood here," he said ushering the women away before turning back to Seso, "you too you big lug. Awful hard to turn your back to kiss someone knowing those damn blades of yours might find their way into places they shouldn't."

When they were alone Tamina continued to look away, seeming to take in the revelry around them. Dastan looked at the fire, trying to choose what he was going to say. She could not ignore him forever and he knew that when they spoke she was going to continue to tell him she would choose the Dagger. And for the life of him he could not stand the words. Not when the memory of her letting go of his hand and falling to her death was so fresh in his mind. Throwing back the last of the milk in his hand, he turned to her at the exact same time she finished her own drink for the same resolve turned to face him.

"You can't just say something like that!" both cried at the exact same time.

Speechless, they looked at each other with mirrored expressions of anguish, both knowing the words the other said were true and both unwilling to believe that they were so. They held each other's gazes, each trying to see if there was a chance the other was lying and both realizing that the words they had spoken earlier were true. Both stared at each other, neither willing to look away or to speak first and break the silence. After a moment, however, Dastan spoke.

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself Tamina."

"Its not up to you," she shot back.

"I protect my family."

"I have been your family for two days."

"That does not matter and you know it," he said,

"Well it should," she shot back, "you know what my duty is as a Guardian-"

"Will you stop it with this "your duty as a Guardian" business?" Dastan demanded, anger shining in his eyes, "I know what your duty is."

"Then why won't you let me perform it?" she challenged, "why, at every turn, must you tell me that you will choose me over the Dagger. You know what it can do, you saved the world! I don't understand-"

"I saw you do it!" he cut her off, the tone and volume of his voice stopping her from speaking further, Furiously he ran his hand through his hair, "I saw your face, you were so scared-" he cut himself off, "and I couldn't let you go. I fought, I fought to keep my grip on you but you, you just let yourself fall," he was silent for a moment, his hands knotting together in front of him, "I couldn't save you then," he said as though admitting some great shame. When he looked at her the resolve that burned in his eyes stole her breath away, "I won't let that happen again. Not for the world, not for any reason."

Tamina's eyes searched his face. He was serious. He had fought to hold her and he had failed. She knew that she had died, that she had fallen to her death protecting the Dagger but looking at him now, it all made sense. Why he was blinded by his desire to protect her. He had seen the fear in her eyes, he had seen how scared she was. She had chosen to protect the Dagger but in doing so she had forced him to watch her die. And if he had struggled to hold onto her, if he had fought to keep her in his grasp her death had not been a very quick affair. It was surreal to hear about her death from his lips, to hear about the fear she had shown as she let herself fall. She had been trained from a young age to protect the Dagger above all other things. Even if that meant her death. But the fear she had shown when dying was unsettling. A month ago, Tamina knew she would have sacrificed herself with more serenity than she would now. She looked down at the sands by her feet before looking up at him.

"Dastan," she began, fighting to find the words to get him to understand what he was saying was ludicrous, "I must protect the Dagger," she said, falling back on the words she knew to be truer than any others, "it is what I have been trained to do, it is what I was born to do. I must protect it, no matter what."

"Then I will protect you, no matter what."

The declaration was rash, bold and more sincere than Tamina would have thought possible. He had said as much before but there was something different about this time. He was not shouting that he would choose a single soul over all the others in the world. He was telling her that he would protect her, though they both knew he was saying the same words over again. Suddenly the air was stifling. Moving her skirts, Tamina struggled to her feet. The idea of being there, of being next to him with his insane, wonderful, foolish vows was suddenly unbearable to the Dagger's Guardian. Half blinded by tears and far from her usual ability to control her emotions, Tamina did the only thing she could think. She strode away from the fire, weaving through the men and the fires and the smells of meat. She could feel the alcohol in her head but that only serve to snare more control away from her.

She heard Dastan call for her but she ignored it, not stopping until she made her way to the outskirts of the city where the sand stretched endlessly around them, grains turned white by the bright moon above them. Fighting not to collapse to the ground and sob, Tamina turned her back to the fire and look at the desert. A moment later she heard Dastan's footsteps behind her. Of course he would follow her. To make sure she was safe, to continue their conversation, for some terrible and noble reason. But he was still there. Tamina spun around to face him, speaking before he could.

"You care about me," she said, her tone sharp with accusation, "and I-I can't care about you. Not like that-" she said, desperately shaking her head.

There was something about the way she spoke that sent Dastan's stomach dropping before his heart began to soar. She was looking away, her eyes bright with sadness and anguish. She was raw and beautiful and he realized in that moment that she cared about him. She cared about him enough to struggle with the words that came from her lips. To act like a woman, like Tamina, around him, without the facade of a Guardian in between them. She cared about him and suddenly everything else seemed to fade to the back of his mind.

"But you do," Dastan said, his tone full of wonderment. Tamina looked away sharply, fighting the urge to bite her lip like a child.

"It does not matter," she said, her tone soft.

"No, Tamina, it does," he crossed the sands faster than she would have thought, his hands grasping her shoulders. Her eyes locked on his, widening at the touch, "it does. You are allowed to feel-"

"No, no!" she said stumbling away from him, "not like that. Not for you," she shook her head, "Gods, Dastan, I cannot make the same choice you would! I cannot choose one soul over all the rest. Not yours, not my own," she turned her back to him.

His hands streaked out, grabbing her arms. Tamina squeezed her eyes shut but for the life of her she could not force herself to leave his grasp.

"God, Tamina, would you stop running away? " he demanded, his voice low and angry, "stop running," he repeated, his voice softening.

When she looked up at him the emotion in her eyes stole his breath away. Even tear bright, her eyes burned with determination. But he could see her resolve faltering and a part of him cringed at the thought he had done that to her. Then he remembered the fear in her eyes, the way her voice had sounded as she watched her hand slip free from his grasp. He would not let that happen, not again. Before they had not had a chance to explore their feelings, he knew their single kiss was one of desperation and fear, no more than a quick press of lips. Her duty had come first, her feelings second. But as he looked at her Dastan realized that her feelings conflicted with her duty, that she was just as scared at the prospect of sacrificing herself now as she had been those impossibly long moments as he clung to the rocks. That somehow, inexplicably, she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her. She did not strike him or move to fight his grasp, something she had proven as being very adept at doing. Which meant that she wanted to be there. She wanted to be in his embrace.

Tamina looked up at him through blurred eyes. She was running and they both knew it. Looking at him, she felt more exposed than she had in her entire life. How could he see through her so easily? Why was it when she was with him, every attempt she made at being the serene Guardian was thwarted as easily as every one of his attempts at being the noble Prince? Why was it when they were together their duties faded and all that ever seemed to matter was their emotions? She had known that first day, when he had teased her, that this would be different from the other political marriages she had witness. But as she looked at him she realized that even then she could have had no idea how different it would be. Because in spite of all she knew she must do, in spite of everything she knew she must be to the people of Alamut, to the people of the world, when she looked at him all she wanted to be was, well, Tamina. The young woman who had once looked at the world with hope. Whose Aunt had chosen her to guard the Dagger because she had seen something in the young girl. Being with Dastan made her want to be the person she was so rarely allowed to be.

Her eyes searched his face. She did not know what she could say to him, and certainly not when she knew her voice would tremble. His eyes searched her face, as if he could somehow find the answers in her features. He must have seen what he needed, for the hands that griped her relaxed on her arms. When his grasp loosened further she made no move to run. She could not run away from him, not now. Not like this. As she stood there, her eyes did not leave his. Still when he moved, her breath caught in her throat as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

His kiss was achingly sweet, as if to convey everything he could not find the words to voice. Tamina held herself perfectly still for a breath, fighting the urge to sink into his kiss. She knew that if she kissed him back, they would not leave the Valley of the Slaves that night. That if she kissed him now, there would be no stopping. For a moment she was caught between her duty and her desire. And then her decision was made. Slowly her lips moved against his, her body moving forward to press against his own. One of her hands slowly touched his cheek, her fingers resting just below the scar on his cheek. She felt him stiffen in response to her reaction but just as quickly he leaned forward, the kiss deepening as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

For the life of her Tamina would never remember how they made it back to the room, just that the moment they entered the door way her mouth was on his once more. He leaned eagerly into the kiss, his hands wrapping around her waist to pull her closer against his body, his hands sliding up the expanse of her back. The calloused skin was warm against her own but his movements were sure and strong. There was no fear in him as he held her, his lips moving against her own and any fear Tamina felt evaporated in his embrace. She leaned against the hard plain of his chest, feeling his pulse race and knew her own was leaping as well. Her fingertips slid up to grasp his shoulders, her arms wrapping around their broad expanse as her back arched into his touch.

His hands swept the length of her hair to the side before his lips left hers to press against the length of her throat. Tamina bit her swollen ones, her head rolling to the side to allow his wicked mouth better access to her skin. She could not think when he was beside her and for the first time she found that did not bother her. She did not want to think, not as his fingers splayed across her spine and his teeth scraped against her throat before his lips soothed the skin. She felt like she was drowning, but the thought of pulling apart for air was one that never crossed her mind. She wanted him and suddenly it seemed wildly unfair that he got to wear all the clothing he was. She did not know where she found the strength to pull back from his heated embrace, nor the boldness to grab the hem of his shirt and lift it easily over his head. His eyes, dark with lust, sparkled with mirth at her boldness.

"Trying to get me naked?" he asked, his voice low and sending chills up her spine.

"Well it only seems fair, considering how much more of it you're wearing," she said, her eyes moving down the bare length of his torso.

"See something you like?" he inquired, though the desire in his tone made it clear the feeling was mutual.

Tamina looked up at him before her eyes went to the floor. Dastan turned his head to see that the Dagger was there. resting on top of his discarded shirt. Tamina looked at it silently, even as his eyes dragged from the Dagger back to her. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, he could even see the red skin on her neck from his lips. Her eyes were clouded with desire, he knew she did not want to go and yet a part of him was convinced that she would. She had overcome what she wanted for what she felt had to be done before. Why should now be any different? Bitterness began to tug at him. No man liked the idea of the woman who was literally in his arms choosing, well, anything, over him. His eyes went back to the stupid Dagger, trying to focus on his feelings for that and not the warm, soft body pressed against his own. Dastan fought to control himself. If she chose to leave, he would deal with that. But he would not force her, not to do this. He turned to look at her, his lips parting to speak.

But the press of hers stopped any words from leaving his own.

She kissed him, the heat of the action contradicting the softness of her touch as her fingers slid through his hair. She was eager against him, her her soft fingers leaving his hair to trail across the skin laid bare by his discarded shirt. He could feel the length of her body pressed against his, the rapid pound of her heart echoing his own racing pulse. Painted in the light of the moon she was soft and cool and perfect in his arms. His hands moved to her waist, his thumbs brushing her sides as his fingers pressed into the embroidery of the belt. Her hands slipped from his shoulders to his arms, soft fingertips gliding across his skin to rest at his elbows before her hands drew away. Her lips lingered for a moment as well before she pulled back fully.

Hazily Dastan opened his eyes and Tamina could see the confusion in them. He did not understand what she was doing. For the first time she could remember the thoughts of the Dagger were not at the forefront of her mind. Her hands were steady as she reached up to the first of the fabric covered buttons that held her shirt closed. She undid the button and reached for the next when his calloused hands reached out and caught her own. She looked at him, for the first time feeling unsure. What if he did not want this? Was that why he was stopping her. But the next moment the thought was gone from her head as his hands settled hers at his shoulders. His fingertips trailed the length of her arm, his touch almost teasingly light before his fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt. Tamina inhaled sharply at the feeling of his hands on her chest. She hardly dared to breathe as his fingertips undid the buttons, exposing the skin underneath.

When their eyes met, neither were able to name the emotions that swam in their gaze. It was too soon to feel the way they did, there was too much at stake as well. But as they looked at each other they knew that words had no place. Not now, not as they stood in the small room with their bodies pressed together. With aching slowness, one of Dastan's hands slowly slid around her hip, the gesture echoing what they had almost done their wedding night. Dastan watched her body tense, her breath catching in her throat as her fingers pressed into the muscles of his shoulders. He let his hand settle on the small of her back as his other hand slid along the length of her spine. He watched the emotions play across her face, even as her eyes closed and she fought to hold onto some semblance of control. Dastan leaned closer to her, his chest brushing against her own.

"You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear, his voice undoing her last semblance of control.

No more words passed between them. His movements were steady and sure throughout the night, even as everything that stood between them fell away. He never rushed or pushed too hard, his self control was astounding. Tamina had always been treated like an idol, like some ideal made flesh and blood. But in Dastan's hands she felt-she felt indescribable. Every move he made, every brush of his lips, every thrust and bite and gasp sent her mind reeling and her body arching against his, desperate for more. He was her undoing and as she moved with him, Tamina found that if she had to be undone, she was glad it was with him. For the first time that she could remember, Tamina nothing weighed on her. Not the Dagger, not her duties. Nothing existed outside of the bed they lay on, outside of his calloused hands and soft lips. And the first time that she could remember Tamina was free.

Dastan breathed promises and curses into Tamina's soft tan skin, watching in utter fascination as the strong Guardian who prized her self control lost it in his embrace. Every soft sound she made, every gasp, every toss of her ebony hair drove him crazy. She was perfect, there was no other way to describe it. He gave no thought to the Dagger on his shirt, or to the world that still needed them to save it. Nothing mattered but the woman in his arms. She was not the Guardian, not consumed by her burdens and duties just as the weight of the Dagger and the time that had not come to pass seemed to vanish from his thoughts. Every touch, every sound, all of it only drove him closer to the edge. It was maddening, she was maddening and yet as they came together he knew he would have it no other way. She was everything he knew he would ever want and in a single perfect moment Dastan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his confession to his brother was true. He would only have one wife.

One wife who he was completely in love with.

They slept that night wrapped in each other's embrace, the sheets tangled about their hips. That night Dastan did not dream of death. Nor did he fall into a dreamless slumber. As he slept the Prince dreamt of the woman in his arms. Tamina, too, let sleep take her far away. Her last thought before sleep took her was to wonder if she would ever be able to sleep without him holding her. Even as his arms tightened sleepily around her, Tamina decided that too was a question for another time.

Hours later, Dastan opened his eyes to the sun drenched room, surprised to feel cool air on his chest. A quick flex of his wrists made it clear he was not tied up but the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach did not go away. Eyes opening, he looked at the bed. Sun dappled the empty white sheets, free of the other body that had lain on them. His hand reached out, touching the indent of her body, only to find it cool. It had been hours since someone had lain on it, since Tamina had slept beside him. Dastan felt his fingers tighten in the sheets as he pushed himself up. The dread took over the last of sleep but somewhere deep inside he realized that he had to have known. He did not need to look over at his clothes to know the Dagger was gone, but when his eyes moved to where his shirt had been, he saw nothing but the bare floor. Dastan sat there for a moment, knowing that hours and miles lay between them. She had made a choice and was probably half way to the Temple by now.

Once again she had chosen the Dagger.

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**Wow that was an emotional chapter! Arguing, loving, admitting of feelings! I bet Amar had something cool planned for them but, well, with those two you never know. Next time Tamina's on her way, Dastan's gonna be in hot pursuit along with Hassansins and some very special characters I know you guys are missing like mad! Just wait til they find out what Tamina's been doing to Dastan!**

**Okay so support our mutually beneficial relationship and review! You win, I win and we're all kick ass and happy. Oh and just as a general heads up, if you're gonna im me please don't be mad if I don't reply right away. I love talking to people but I'm the annoying type who leaves their AIM on ALL the time! So yeah, you guys are kicking ass in review-land and I'm updating all the time. Lets keep this going!**

**So please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**This goes out to all those awesome people there in the middle of Finals! Sorry I'm distracting you, best of luck on your exams! **

**And Omigosh everyone's so smart! You all knew Tamina was gonna be gone, but I'm thrilled you liked the wedding night regardless. And yeah, we all knew she was gonna go. But its kinda what she does. Don't ask me how. Like I said Jake=FINE, screw the world. **

**Also you rocked out with reviews! So here's the new chapter! Now I'm not saying this is a double update day for sure (because I got stuff to do) but it might be.**

**Okay so I'm going to probably regret saying this but its poll time again. I wanted the wedding night scene to be tasteful for the people who might not like the smut, but I know there are older folks here (and folks who like smut). SO if you want to see the dirtier version of their wedding night vote on the poll on my page. I'll write it up and post it, uh, somewhere. And give you the link. I promise this fic will continue to be updated quickly but I'll do that later, as a bonus chapter or something if there's interest. **

**Now back to the story!**

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Pulling Aksh to a stop, Tamina looked around the desert.

It was difficult to see, half blinded by tears.

Taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes, Tamina fought to control her emotions. But it was nearly impossible to do. The weight of the Dagger on her back was impossibly heavy, heavier than a knife had any right to be. She tried to ignore it, to ignore the fact that she had stolen Dastan's clothing and Garsiv's horse in order to complete her duty. But it was impossible. Every paw of the stallion's hooves reminded her that Dastan was not on the horse with her. Every movement that pressed the knife into her skin reminded her that she had abandoned him, still asleep in the Valley. But the worst of it was every time she inhaled, she smelled him.

The smell of him was almost enough to send her back to the Valley.

Tamina had taken his cloths, knowing that they would allow her more mobility than her own garments. The clothes were far too big for her slight form, but they suited her need. It was not until she was out of the Valley that she realized her mistake. Every time she breathed in she smelled him. And every time she smelled him she remembered the way he had looked at her last night. The way that he had held her, not as though she was made of glass but like she was flesh and blood, like she was a woman that he loved. She remembered falling asleep in his embrace, the soft sound he had made when she had pulled away, his hands tightening around her. As though even in sleep he knew she was going to leave him behind. The pain in her heart nearly stole her breath away.

Forcing her eyes open, Tamina turned the horse onto the right path and pressed her heels into his sides. The mount took off across the sands. Tamina leaned forward over his neck, her hands pressing into the muscles of the horse. She had to spot the way, she had to get the Dagger to safety. She repeated the message in her head, over and over again as she leaned low on the horse. She had to get to the Guardian Temple, that was the only thing that mattered. if the Dagger fell into the wrong hands-Tamina stopped herself. The Dagger _had_ fallen into the wrong hands it had very nearly ended the world for it. She knew if that happened again, there was no telling what would occur. No, she knew that she was doing what she must. Even if the cost seemed astronomical.

She thought back to the way he had looked at her when he realized that she cared for him. Truthfully until he had said it, until she heard the words aloud, she had hardly known them herself. She knew she cared for him, but she did not know it was in that way. Not until his lips were on hers and his hands were wreaking havoc on her. The entire time she had felt safe and wonderful and the moment she opened her eyes in the morning she knew how dangerous her situation had become. The Dagger came first, it _always_ came first. There was no choice or hope or anything but the simple truth of that statement. The Dagger controlled all the other things in the world. If it was destroyed, so was the world. If the choice came down to it-well, it was not really a choice at all.

As she rode the most miserable thought to run through Tamina's head was that Dastan would not forgive her. He had hated her choices, he shouted himself blue over her blind foolishness when it came to the Dagger. But he always moved past it, until she did something else. As she rode Aksh, Tamina wondered if he would forgive her for leaving him after what they had shared. After last night she was certain he had had other lovers, men usually did, but if he cared about her in the way he claimed to, she did not know if he would accept what she had to do. Tamina shook herself. His acceptance was not important, certainly not as important as her duty. Focusing only on that and pushing all thoughts of her husband out of her mind, Tamina pushed Aksh harder.

By the time she rode into the village surrounding the Temple she looked perfectly composed.

Aksh took her into the village, his hooves steady and strong as he made his way up the gentle slope. Tamina looked around. The Secret Guardian Temple was a peaceful place, it always had been. As the smell of fresh herbs reached her nose, Tamina felt some of the tension inside her relax. This was where she belonged. She could see signs of the Sands and the Dagger everywhere, in amulets above the doors and the charms people wore. The moment Aksh trotted up to the village, the people stopped to look at her. The moment she was recognized, the crowd outside doubled. Few people lived around the Temple, all were guardians of some kind and all had their fates tied to the Dagger. They understood. If any saw the remnants of tears on her face, none were foolish enough to speak of them.

Tamina reigned Aksh in, her eyes casting about for the guardian in charge of the village. Finally her eyes found the woman. Asma was older than her by a handful of years, with more lines on her face and threads of grey in her hair. Her aunt had trusted Asma as a guardian and Tamina did the same. The woman came from her home next to the Temple. More lines graced her face and more grey threaded her hair than Tamina remembered from their last meeting. Clothed in the white and gold of a guardian, the stars on her hands echoed the remnants of the design on Tamina's own skin. But what made Tamina truly stare at the woman was not the familiar face.

On her hip rested a dark haired child.

Tamina's breath caught in her throat. After what she and Dastan had done-she cut herself off. There was no child. Not now, not yet. But as she looked at the guardian holding the dark haired child, she could not help but wonder what her own would look like. Or what Dastan would be like as a father. The thought almost sent her into tears all over again. The dark haired boy leaned against his mother's frame, looking up at Tamina as if he could see the sadness in her eyes. Forcing herself to move, Tamina looked up at the child's mother as she turned and passed the boy off to another woman nearby. A man came forward and took the reins of the horse, steadying Aksh as Tamina looked at the woman. Spreading her hands the guardian greeted Tamina.

"Welcome, Princess Tamina," the woman said bowing to her formally.

Tamina inclined her head in return, swinging her leg over the side of the horse and dropping to her feet with as much grace as she could muster. Her entire body felt sore. Not from the ride but from the night before. Pushing the thoughts out of her mind she turned to the woman. The guardian stood waiting patiently for her. When it seemed she was ready the woman turned and walked up the path, taking Tamina to her house. Two other men followed them. The guardian held the door for Tamina, letting the Princess enter first before following her. The two men moved into place, guarding the door. The woman kept her eyes on the ground until the door shut. When it did, her eyes lifted and locked on Tamina's, her serene face breaking into a bright, crooked smile before she came forward and embraced the Guardian.

"Its so good to see you my friend," she said.

Tamina wrapped her arms around the older woman, letting the smell of incense and duty fill her nose. Formality dictated their practice in the eye of the other people, but behind closed doors the woman was as close to her as a sister. It had been this woman who had first supported Tamina when her Aunt had chosen her to become the next Guardian. This woman who had seen the same spark in Tamina as her Aunt had. If anyone could remind Tamina of her sworn duty, it was the woman who embraced her.

"For me as well, Asma" Tamina said.

"You have the Dagger?" Asma asked, drawing back. Tamina inclined her head, "we had heard the Persians had entered an alliance with Alamut, I am surprised you have brought the Dagger here."

"The Dagger is no longer safe in Alamut, not for the time being," Tamina said.

"We will hide the Dagger here, of course," Asma said, turning to the small fire and pulling the large black kettle off, pouring two cups of tea and placing one in front of Tamina "it will be safe in the Temple."

"I must return to Alamut before the wedding celebrations are over," Tamina said. Asma nodded her understanding.

"I had never thought I would live to see the day when an Alamutian Princess married a Prince of Persia," Asma said, "especially not one who managed to breach the city walls."

"It was a wise marriage," Tamina said, "Persia is no longer a threat and now the strength of the Persian armies is behind Alamut."

"And yet you still think the Dagger will be safer here?"

Tamina nodded. She did not speak of the Hassansins. She did not want to alarm Asma or the rest of the village. They did not know where this place was. So long as she returned to Alamut by nightfall the Dagger would be safe. If her new brother's in law were capable of the destruction Alamut had suffered, they would be able to defeat the Hassansins and she would not have to divulge the secret of the Guardian Temple. The fewer people who knew about the Dagger, the safer it would be. Reaching behind her, Tamina withdrew the Dagger, frowning when her body ached at the change in position. Asma looked at her and from the amused expression on her face, Tamina knew the woman understood the source of her pain. And she should, Asma had six children and a very happy husband who had been married to her for almost all the time Tamina had known the woman.

"And your husband does not mind that his wife rides off in the middle of your wedding night?" Asma asked, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

Tamina looked down at the tea, managing only a weak smile in return. Dastan minded, he minded very much. And yet he always seemed to manage to come with her. A part of her still could not believe she had managed to slip out from under his embrace and leave without him following her. Or coming with her. Even when they fought he always managed to be beside her. This was all her fault, she knew it, and yet in the strangest way she realized she was counting on him to not let her get her way. What if he did not come after her this time? What if she had pushed too far or he had realized that he did not want to be married to a woman who would always put duty in front of him? As the miserable thoughts entered her head, the smell of him invaded her senses once more and much to her great shame, she felt tears burn in her eyes.

"Oh Tamina," Asma got to her feet and hurried over, "I did not mean to upset you. Of course he does not mind-"

"I'm so sorry," Tamina said, fighting to control herself even as her emotions got the better of her and a sob escape her throat, "I don't know what is wrong with me-"

Asma grasped her hand, drawing Tamina's eyes to her. There was nothing but understanding in her friend's gaze, as if she knew perfectly well what ailed Tamina. The understanding, the acceptance in Asma's eyes only brought Tamina closer to weeping. Every time she had seen a choice, she had chosen the Dagger. But as time went on, every time she chose the Dagger it hurt more and more. She had never wept at her duties before, even when she had been undergoing the painful rituals that would name her the head Guardian. She had felt the honor in those, she had accepted the duty and its burdens with pride. But as she sat there sobbing she could feel no pride in what she had done. Only the sharp pain her heart as she thought of what it had taken to leave his embrace.

Her body hurt but her heart hurt more. She had known that being with him so completely would have consequences but she never thought they would be like this. Everything she was wished he had followed her, or that she had woken him, or somehow he had found a way to accompany her. As she sat there with her friend Tamina was sure she had made a terrible mistake. She never should have left him in the Valley, to wake to an empty bed. He had saved the world once before, surely he could have been helpful in the missions she undertook.

Only the Dagger pressing into her back reminded her why she had done what she had.

He had saved the world but she could see the price he paid for it. She did not know what had transpired between them but she was certain that now more than ever he was blind to what the world needed. All that mattered to him was seeing her safe, was keeping her safe. And she could not risk that, not when so much was at stake. She had to abandon him there. He was safer in the Valley of the Slaves than he would be with her. And she had thought that without him there her thoughts would be clearer. But they seemed to continually be occupied by him. The anger she had felt at the way he crept into her thoughts was gone, replaced by a torturous sadness.

Over the sound of her tears, Tamina heard something outside. Both she and Asma turned their heads at the commotion. Adrenaline froze the tears on her face as she looked at the doorway. Asma's hands withdrew from hers as the woman drew the plain dagger strapped to her hip.

"Stay here," Asma said, getting quickly to her feet and hurrying over to the doorway.

Tamina watched Asma walked over to the doorway, unsure of why her stomach dropped and her fingers tightened on the cup in her hands as she got to her feet quickly. Perhaps in some way she knew what was about to happen. Her mouth opened to call her friend back, but no words escaped. Not in time for them to make a difference.

Asma was dead by the time she hit the ground, three darts embedded in her throat.

The cup fell from her numb fingers and shattered on the ground.

As Tamina watched the dark stain spread along the floor, her eyes took in with horror the way her friend's blood spread across it in a perfect mirror image. She was paralyzed, shocked by the fear that spread like fire in her stomach. She did not know where she found the strength to move, to ease herself back into the shadows of the hut and crouch there, hidden by the tall clay pots stacked against the wall. Forcing herself to keep her breathing steady and calm, Tamina listened for footsteps. Knives did not simply throw themselves. There was a person out there, probably the same one who had tried to kill Dastan on their wedding knight. Fingers tight around the Dagger pressed to her chest, Tamina peered in the gap of the pots, praying that the man would simply move on and forgo checking to see if Asma was truly dead.

It seemed, however, that whatever luck she possessed was gone.

The man who entered the shadows of the hut was unlike any she had laid eyes on. His tan skin was cloaked in ebony. The fabric hung around him like a dark cloud, though she could see from his face he was thin, emaciated even. His armor was well made and black as his robes. Unlike other soldiers she had seen, everything from his chest armor to the braces on his hands and wrists were designed around a single weapon. The darts glinted brightly in the light of the sun, as black as the rest of the clothing he wore. As his eyes swept across the room, Tamina fought to remain silent. His eyes were cold, dead, as if the man in front of her was not alive but a spirit of some dark underworld. There was no emotion in his eyes, as though he was not really there. With cold efficiency the man raised his hand and pointed his wrist at the corner of the wall.

The darts sprang free, shooting along the wall. Tamina ducked as the came closer and closer, pressing herself against the stone, her eyes casting desperately about for a way out.

Her eyes found the passageway hidden in the shadows. It was on the opposite corner of the room. If she got there, she could get to the Temple without being seen. But she had to time the move with the Hassansin's darts. He could not catch her and he could not see her go for it. When the dart hit the first of the water pots, Tamina moved. She raced forward as fast as she could in her crouched position. Something seared across her back, leaving white hot agony coursing down her spine but she did not spare it a thought. The Dagger was what mattered. It was all that mattered. As the pots were destroyed, Tamina used the dust and noise to her advantage, sliding the stone away and dropping into the narrow, darkened space, shoving the stone back in place so fast it was a miracle she kept all her fingertips.

The space was pitch black and so small she could only crawl on her stomach, laying flat on the surface. Her back seared with pain and Tamina knew one of the Hassansin's darts had caught her. The line of agony spanned from shoulder to shoulder, assuring her that the dart had not embedded itself in her back. Thanking the Gods for small favors, Tamina ignored the agony and began to make her way down the crawl space. In a few moments it would drop down into a passageway where she could stand. Sure enough her hands found the drop. It was hard to twist her body around but she managed, hanging motionless for a moment before letting go with her hands and dropping down onto the sand of the passageway.

Tamina pressed herself into the stone, listening for any sound of the Hassasins and his darts. But there was no whistle of metal in the air, nor was there the sound of the stone being moved. She knew it blended perfectly with the floor underneath it, designed to be quickly accessible only to those who knew where it was. But if anyone could find it it was the Hassansin. Tamina counted to twenty, not daring to move from her sheltered position as she felt the blood spread across her back. But even as she lingered there, she heard nothing. The Hassansin had not found the secret passageway. But they had found the Secret Guardian Temple. They knew of the one place the Dagger could be safe and that meant, that meant it was not safe anymore.

Tamina reached behind her back and pressed her fingertips into the cloth at her back, feeling the contours of the Dagger. She had come there to hide the Dagger, to return to Alamut with the knowledge it was safe. But if it was not safe with the guardians of this Temple, then there was really no other choice. Closing her eyes, Tamina leaned heavily against the stone. Had Dastan knew that it would come to this? Was that why he had been so willing to delay their journey? He had told her she fell to her death but as she thought of the Temple that rested at the end of the corridor, she wondered if she had told him of the Temple's secret. Even as she wondered she realized that he knew. He had to know. Biting her lip Tamina fisted her free hand in the loose shirt she wore, telling herself she was waiting to hear if the Hassansin had found the passageway.

Anger filled her. She was being selfish and cowardly lingering here hoping for someone else to fix this problem. She was the Guardian of the Dagger. It was her calling, her purpose, her sworn duty. Every person out there who had been killed had died for the weapon resting against her spine. They had lived there knowing what they risked. And yet they continued to be there. They had died for the Dagger, for their duty. And yet she somehow thought herself above the same sacrifice. Disgust filled her. If the Dagger was used, the world ended with it. That meant every other life in the world would end with the Dagger and its ability.

Every life, including Dastan's.

Her eyes widened as she realized that he would die. As well as his brothers, his father, his friend, they would all be gone as well. If she lived, they died. It was as simple as that and suddenly the world was clear and sharp to her eyes. He would never forgive her for this, of that she was sure, but he would at least be alive. After all he had done for the Dagger, for the world, for her, the least she could do was make sure that he survived this. Pushing herself away from the wall, Tamina turned towards the secret entrance to the Temple. She had to get there before the Hassansins did. She had dealt with them once and almost given her life for it. Now there was no-one to save her. She had only herself. Forcing strength into her legs she took off down the corridor.

She had to pay the price the Gods demanded.

Even as she ran, in some distant part of her mind Tamina hoped that Dastan would suddenly be there. He had headed her off before, why should this time be any different. If she had to see him before she did what had to be done, Tamina knew her resolve would be tested. But her faith was strong, of that she was certain. And if he was there she could make him understand what needed to be done. She could make him see the truth in her words. Her emotions felt frayed as she ran but she knew that if nothing else she wanted to see him. Just once more, just once before she sacrificed herself to her Gods and saved them all. All including him. Light began to shine up ahead in the dark corridor, showing she was almost there. Tamina's pace quickened, closing the last distance between herself and her destination.

She burst out into the sun dappled interior of the Temple.

Her eyes roved over the landscape, the familiar grass and rocks and water. There were no Hassansin's here, not yet anyway. If she moved quickly, there would be none at all. Reaching behind her back she pulled the Dagger out from the folds of cloth, her eyes still moving around, searching for anyone else in the shadows. But even as she stood there, torn between hope and despair, Tamina knew there was no-one in the Temple. That she was alone. Pressing the Dagger into her chest, Tamina fought the plummet of her heart. She was alone, she told herself that was good. That she wanted to be here alone. That if she was alone it meant that she could perform her duty, without Dastan's earnest gaze and quick hands. But there was no comfort in the thought, not now. There was also no time to waste, not with the Hassansins outside. Tamina wiped the remnants of tears from her face and turned towards the crevice where the Dagger would rest.

Dagger in hand, Tamina stepped into the water and made her way over to the rocks.

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**WHERE'S DASTAN?**

**Not there, thats for sure. **

**Sorry about the OFC, but I figured Tamina would be friends with one or two people who guarded the Temple, she did look rather upset when she found them all slaughtered. ALSO it says that she's the head Guardian and Guardian of the Dagger but I used the title for the other people who help protect it. Like underlings. **

**Okay I did my part, now you do yours. Support our Mutually Beneficial Relationship or, as Nini called it, our MBR and review! Long, short, filled with song suggestions or just general critiques lemme know what you think! You're happy, I'm happy and we all are wicked awesome!**

**So please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Anonymous review reply time, Grios-YES more lines for Seso! Such a wasted character, I promise he'll have stuff to say. Thanks for reminding me! Torey-checking for updates work? I'm honored you enjoy the story so much! Haley 2010-Great idea! I've got a poll for a vote going as to what to do for that but I think its gonna be something like that. Remember if you've got a question you want answered lemme know in your review or hit me up on AIM (enchantablefics). **

**ALSO THANK YOU for the song suggestions! I'm compiling them to listen to them! Some of them I've heard of and love, some i'm gonna try out. But you guys have great taste! Keep 'em coming, I always love to get my hands on new music! Oh and don't forget to hit up the poll on my page and vote. Or vote in your review. Right now you guys are ALL about the wedding night but keep voting! **

**And Reviews! OMG you guys are incredible when it comes to it! Thank you so so much for all your feedback. Especially my grammar people! I know it may seem like I don't really pay attention to you guys but I do! Grammar's not my strong suite so thanks for the help! And of course everyone else who reviews I adore you all! Lets keep this awesome party going!**

**Now back to the story!**

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It was the longest she had ever taken to reach the rocks.

Tamina moved slowly, fighting the urge to run with every step. Her eyes continued to dart towards the doorway, as if by some miracle Dastan would appear there. But he did not and each step brought her closer to her destiny. Tamina held the Dagger to her chest as each step became harder and harder to take. For all the time it took her to get to the rocks, when she found herself standing in front of them she could hardly remember the laborious journey it had taken to get her to the place. She looked at the rocks, the Dagger tight to her chest as she stared. It took no searching to find the Dagger's place, the crevice perfectly formed to the Dagger's shape. All she had to do was slide the Dagger into place and the deal would be done. That first life would be repaid. No more Dagger meant no more threat, no more Sands, the world would be safe.

So why did she feel so afraid?

Despite Dastan's words she had believed that she would be serene when performing the duty she had known she would one day have to. Her Aunt had given her life for the Dagger, as had every Guardian in the past. She would have the honor of finishing what each of those lives had started. What that first life had begun. The story would end with her. It was a great honor, she knew that, and yet as she looked at the rocks she found she could not get her hand to move. Turning her head she looked at the doorway once more. No Hassansin's shadowed its entrance, but nether did Dastan. He was not coming. He wold not make it in time. She was on her own and every moment she wasted she knew the world existed in danger of what the Dagger's terrible powers could accomplish.

She could not sacrifice the world for anything.

Not even her heart.

Closing her eyes against the stinging, Tamna drew the Dagger from her chest. The engravings were already stained with her blood from the Dagger's place at her back. Reaching out she pressed the blade into her fingertip, breaking the skin. Opening the Dagger's top, she pressed her finger against the surface, letting blood trickle into the glass. Five times she pressed the Dagger into her fingertips, five times she let her blood fill the glass. The Sand inside the dagger did not mix with her blood. It floated there, suspended in the ruby liquid. Tamina closed the Dagger's top with her wounded fingertips, turning back to the rocks. The first part of the ritual was complete. All that remained was to place the Dagger back into the rocks and return it to the Gods.

An apology caught in the back of her throat. Though whether it was to herself or Dastan or some force unknown, she could not say. She refused to utter it, biting the inside of her cheek. She would not die apologizing for what she believed. She knew she already looked every inch as raw and broken as she felt. Her composure was nothing more than a distant memory but at the very least she could die without sobbing. This was an honor, the fact that her life would be worth so much to the Gods. It was an honor and yet as she extended her wounded hand, Tamina found she wished for nothing more than to give into her desire and sob. She did not.

Tamina reached forward to place the Dagger into the rocks.

Agony seared across the back of her hand.

Tamina gasped, her fingers opening reflexively as the Dagger clattered into the water. Spinning around she turned to face the Hassansin who had thrown the weapon, only to find that he was not there. IIt was a good shot but it lacked the deadly precision of the Hassansin's blades, meaning that the man in front of her was a warrior but not in the same kind as the Hassansins. t took her emotionally frayed and fear fogged mind a moment to place the man standing there, one hand still extended from throwing the knife that had wounded her. Her eyes took in the fine, familiar robes he wore, now stained with the sands and blood and finally her mind realized who he was.

It was Garsiv.

Turning around Tamina went for the Dagger but the Prince was faster than she. Before she could get it a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, locked one of her hands to her side and holding the other aloft. Blood began to soak her sleeve as she kicked out, trying to break his hold. He was taller than his brother, stronger as well and while she knew Dastan understood what was going on, Garsiv was able to hold her tighter. Furiously she tried to twist around to look at him but the Prince held her steady, his legs easily moving to accommodate the blows she sent his way.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

"No!" he shot back.

"You fool! I have to-"

"We have enough secrets in Persia, _Princess_," he said cutting her off, "for even a fool like me to know something is going to happen when you place that Dagger in the rock," he turned his head, "Bis! Get the Dagger."

Dastan's friend and second in command raced forward with the same kind of speed and eerie grace Dastan displayed. Vaulting nimbly over the rocks, he dropped to his knees and snatched the Dagger from where it had dropped. Tamina struggled against Garsiv's embrace but between her two bleeding cuts and what she had seen, her struggle was less than effective. He was easily able to block the blows she dealt, his body twisting and turning to counter her attacks without sacrificing his hold on her. His patience, however, seemed to be wielded with less skill.

"Stop-Stop!" the prince snarled finally, "you are wasting my time and whatever strength you have left," Garsiv turned, "we need to get her out of the Temple," he said.

"We can't go the way we came," Bis said, "those Hassansin's collapsed the entrance."

"There is another way out of here," Garsiv said, "tell me where it is."

"The passage entrance is over there," Tamina said nodding towards the opening, hidden by the rocks, "by all means, use it. But you will find yourself in a house full of Hassansins. They're probably looking for it right now."

Garsiv swore.

"I'm letting you go now. If you make a move for the Dagger I will break both of your arms, do you understand me?"

Tamina glared furiously at him but gave a curt nod. Garsive stepped back, releasing her from his grasp. Garsiv was wearing a fine outer robe of red and gold, embroidered richly in a design of birds. Each bird's eye was graced with a jewel, making them look startlingly alive. The rest of his clothing was just as fine, just as ornate and all was stained with sand and blood. The weapons he had thrown on were bulk and bunched the fabric oddly, making it clear that the clothing he was wearing was not designed to be worn in battle. And yet he had ridden without a thought to preserving the riches he wore. It seemed that Dastan's ignorance or lack of care for his fine clothing was a trait he shared with his brothers.

"Where is my brother?" Garsiv questioned.

"Dastan is fine," Tamina said through gritted teeth as the torn skin on her back stung.

"That is not my question," the Prince shot back.

"That is my answer," she snapped, whatever grace and serenity long gone.

They glared furiously at each other, but there was none of the humor that Dastan seemed to be able to show when fighting with her. Tamina looked every inch as raw and pained as she felt. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck, the quick braid she had done long since having come undone. Blood and sweat and sand stained the too big clothing she wore and even Garsiv could see she was moments from collapsing. Even with all of that he could clearly see the red that stained her eyes and the tears that streaked her cheeks. She had been weeping and suddenly her words about Dastan being fine were even less believable than before.

"Tell me where he is," Garsiv repeated, hoping his voice came out with enough force to scare her into submission, "you rode from your precious Alamut together. I saw Aksh here. What have you done with my brother? Abandoned him to the desert? Chosen to protect your precious Dagger over him? Answer me!"

Tamina stared at Garsiv. He looked moments from killing her himself. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that she was wearing men's clothing and that she had been weeping but he seemed to have put the pieces of the story together faster than she would have thought. The worry in his eyes though, that was all the look of a protective older brother. Clearly the fact that they were related by marriage now held no sway with the second Prince of Persia. With him yelling at her, Tamina did not feel like a Princess or a Guardian or anything really. The urge to sob was suddenly back and doubled from before but she shoved it aside. She would be damned before she let him see her weep.

"Hey now, hey," Bis quickly moved into position between them, with no thought to the Prince who was shouting or the woman who was seconds from crumbling, "I think we can all agree Dastan is fine and we have bigger things to worry about."

"You have no way of knowing that," Garsiv said sharply.

"Its Dastan," Bis said, as though that explained everything, "if anyone can make it out of this, ah," he looked about as though searching for the right words, "this situation, it is him."

Garsiv looked at him and for a moment Tamina thought he would start screaming again. But finally he gave a curt nod, throwing Bis a dirty look that seemed to have no effect on the young man. As if he received such looks from nobility all the time. He too was dressed very finely but his clothing did not hold the same extravagance that Garsiv's did. Still he did not seem to hold the same reverence for the Prince as the rest of Persia did, as though he had seen Garsiv in some rather embarrassing situations. There was a friendship between the two men, that much was clear. But when he looked back at her, Garsiv still looked anything but pleased at the fact she was standing there looking as she did and Dastan was nowhere to be seen.

"We're stuck here for now," Bis continued, "perhaps we should tend to the Princess's wounds-"

"The Princess is standing right here," Tamina snapped at him, not appreciating being spoken about as though she was somewhere else, "and her wounds are fine."

Both men looked at her, clearly surprised at her boldness and Tamina wondered what women were usually like around them. She refused to back down, having suffered too much in the way of rest of humiliation that day. She heard Bis make a sound and realized he was fighting not to laugh. Garsiv, however, still looked angry. But finally he shifted and sighed, looking over his shoulder at the entranceway with naked longing before his eyes went back to her form.

"You are not fine," he said, "we need to tend to your wounds and you have explanations to give."

"But the Hassansins-"

"My men have taken four already," Garsiv said, "they will peruse the rest."

"Besides, Dastan'll never forgive us if we leave you here," Bis cut in cheerfully, "and between you and me I'd rather have them on my ass than him."

"I am fine," Tamina repeated firmly.

"You may be many things, Princess, but fine is not one of them," Garsiv said, "if you would like to stand until you fall over, be my guest. Bis make sure you are close enough to catch her, will you?"

Bis let out a breath, stepping closer to Tamina. She turned to look at him but the torn skin on her back seared with agony, stealing her breath. She did not catch the sound that escaped her lips in time for the two men not to hear. They both looked at her once again as she fought to contain the howl in her throat. With adrenaline fading, Tamina was painfully aware of everything from her scraped knees to the long cut on her back. The image of Asma falling, her blood spreading across the stone of the floor seemed to have been burned in her mind. How many others were dead? Tens, twenties, all of them? Looking up at Garsiv she fought to keep herself under control as she looked at him.

"How many are alive in the village?" she questioned.

Garsiv looked away, his hand dropping from his blade. Tamina's eyes widened. She turned her head to look at Bis, wary of her back but the other man would not meet her eyes. Tamina's stomach dropped as she looked between the two of them. Someone had to tell her, someone had to speak. Someone _had_ to have survived the attack. The Hassansins could not have killed everyone in the village. It was impossible. All those guardians, their families, their lives-they could not all be dead. Taking a step forward she stared at Garsiv until the general's eyes came back to her face. He shifted his weight before his emotions faded into cool collectiveness.

"We found five children hiding in one of the store rooms," he said, "we have taken them back to Alamut."

"Five," Tamina repeated, her voice sounding hollow and shocked to her own ears.

She moved backwards, sinking onto the nearby rock. Five children. There had been fifty, almost sixty, people who lived there. Now there were five children. Five children who had seen their entire world destroyed. Selfishly Tamina wondered if any of those children were Asma's. Had they survived or were they all dead? Instantly she felt bile in her throat. Instead of being grateful for any lives having been saved she was wondering as to her friend's children. It was disgusting. How could she possibly prize one child's life over another? How could she-

Her back seared with pain.

Tamina gasped aloud, her fingers digging into her knees as a pair of hands pressed onto her shoulders to steady her. She had been so lost in thought she had not seen the two men move. Garsiv stood in front of her, holding her steady as Bis poured water along her back, washing the wound clean. Or at least she thought it was water. It could very well have been fire for the way it stung her skin. She could feel Bis's hand on her back, washing the wound clean as she fought to keep from crying out. The two men in front of her were trained warriors, warriors who got regularly scarred and beaten. She did not. But her pride, whatever remnants of it she had left, would not let her cry out. Biting the inside of her lip, Tamina tasted blood as she fought back the urge.

"Good, good," Bis said, its not too deep," he continued, "I don't see any sign of poison either. But we should cover it," he moved away from her back and Garsiv withdrew his hands, "can I see your hand?" he asked looking at Tamina.

Tamina looked down at her hand and the long cut that sliced across it before she looked up at the young man crouched there. Slowly she extended her hand to him. He took it easily in his, larger, calloused one, careful not to jar the cuts on the pads of her fingers as he examined the long one on the back of her hand. For all his earlier mirth, his eyes were sharp as he looked at her injury. In some ways that was the most telling thing about him. He had grown up in a place where a simple infection could mean death and even now that he was closer to the royal family, his cautiousness had not abated. As though he could feel her examining him, he looked up and flashed a bright grin her way before rinsing the back of her hand. The skin stung but this time Tamina refused to even let a gasp escape her lips.

"This one's not deep either," he said.

"Of course its not," Garsiv said, "I did not throw the knife to wound her seriously."

"Of course not," Bis replied without missing a beat, though from the spark in his eyes it was clear that Prince Garsiv's throws were not always true.

"Tell me about this Dagger of yours," Garsiv said.

"You would not understand."

Garsiv rested his arms on his knee.

"Explain it to me then," he said.

"I would hardly expect a General foolish enough to think he could breach the main gate of Alamut to understand the complexities of the Dagger," Tamina snapped.

"Then perhaps you would explain it to a man wise enough to know Alamut is hiding something?" Garsiv challenged, bristling at being called a fool, "something great enough to make a man a King," Tamina fought to keep her neutral, "my Uncle, traitorous as he was, was anything but a fool. He would not have revealed all he did if there was not something in Alamut that would give him my father's throne-" Garsiv turned to Bis, "and would you stop that ridiculous custom? He was a treacherous lout, not a demon!"

Tamina looked over. Bis had spat on the ground and his fingers were halfway through a sign to ward off evil. There was no patience in Garsiv's gaze at the action but the anger in his expression now held a wounded edge. He was hurt by his Uncle's actions, as hurt as Dastan had been. They had loved their Uncle and for him to turn and try to kill Dastan, it was clearly a painful thing for them to see. And neither knew how far their Uncle had been willing to go to see his plan through to the end. Hastily Bis wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking for the first time ashamed. Apparently there were certain things one did not push with the Princes.

Things like family.

Tamina looked at the water by her feet. She knew she should not trust the Prince sitting in front of her, tending to her injured hand. But in the same way she did not know if she would get out of this without him understanding. Perhaps if he understood he would give her back the Dagger and let her-let her what? She looked up at him and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not going to give her back the Dagger. Especially not when he knew the ritual she was about to enact would mean her death. She was not foolish enough to think that it was because he cared about her. He did not know her well enough to care about her yet and their few interactions had been in the middle of courtly affairs. But she was his sister in law and somehow, impossibly, he knew what she meant to Dastan.

"You love him," she realized aloud, drawing Garsiv's eye back to her.

All this time she had thought Dastan's blind devotion to family was something he had learned on the streets. Or something he had held like a fairy tale. But as she looked at Garsiv's face she realized that it was neither. He prized family above all else because the family that had taken him in prized family above all else. Garsiv's anger at Nizam's betrayal suddenly made perfect sense. _He_ was a younger brother as well, destined forever to remain in the shadow of his elder brother unless Tus died. She forced her thoughts back, to the times she had seen him before. He looked no better now than he had when he rode into her city at the head of an army. But there was no army, no battle, no excuse. Except that the knowledge of his Uncle's plan stuck close to home for the young Prince.

"You would not use this treasure to gain the throne," Tamina continued, urgency in her voice, "not if the cost would be your brother's death-"

"Do _not_ speak of my brother's death," Garsiv said, his tone taking on an edge that Tamina had never heard before.

"I am afraid I must," Tamina said, meeting the anger in his eyes, "if what Dastan has said is so."

"What has Dastan told you?" Gasiv questioned, confusion in his eyes.

"The Dagger you hold is no ordinary Dagger, nor is it really a Dagger at all," she said, "it is a key. A key to a great treasure that all of Alamut was built to protect. Dastan is a part of that."

"How?" Garsiv demanded, "does this treasure have something to do with why Dastan has been acting so strange?"

Tamina's eyes widened. He knew Dastan had been acting strange? From the looks of it Garsiv had not only known but Bis had as well. The young man was busy with her injuries but she knew he was listening intently as well. The two men there cared about Dastan and knew him well enough to know that something had been terribly wrong. It had taken Dastan a month to tell her, her who would believe him. She knew he planned to tell his siblings as well. He trusted them and she knew that she would have to as well. Not with what lay below the city, only a handful of people knew that secret. But with the Dagger and its power, that she needed to believe they were trustworthy enough to know.

"The Dagger is capable of unlocking the past," she said, "it is able to take people back to the past, to alter the events and outcome of a given time. Only the one who holds the Dagger knows what has taken place. The men, the Hassansins, they wished to use the Dagger to do such a thing, though I do not know why."

Anxiously she watched their faces, trying desperately to judge their reactions, but it was impossible to tell what they were thinking. The snort of laughter behind her brought her eyes to Bis who had his hand clapped over his mouth, desperately fighting mirth.

"You mean to tell me that Dastan, our _Dastan_ is protecting a time traveling Dagger?" Bis demanded.

"No I protect the Dagger," Tamina said, "and I fail to see the humor in this-"

"As do I," Garsiv said, glaring at the young man before looking at Tamina, "how far back can this Dagger take a man?"

"Used improperly, it can take him back to the beginning, to the moment of birth."

That shut Bis's laughter off.

Both men stared at her, each digesting the information she had given them. Anger flew across Garsiv's face but she could see the acceptance in his eyes. His words about his Uncle were true. He had been smart and Garsiv knew that whatever he had sought in Alamut would have been enough to make him a King. Going back to a moment when his father had been saved and making it so the great King lost his life would ensure Nizam the throne. The second Prince understood that. When he looked at Tamina, his gaze was razor sharp.

"And what happens if one was to do that?" he asked, "surely your Gods have a consequence for such actions."

"A sandstorm," she said, "one that would end the world."

"Well there's not much point in going back so far now is there," Bis said with a shrug.

"Perhaps my Uncle was not so smart-Bis!" Garsiv cut the man off with an angry shout as Bis made to react to hearing the name once again, "and what would happen if you completed whatever ritual you were about to perform?"

"The Dagger would be returned," she said.

"And the price for that?" Garsiv asked.

"A single life," she said, forcing the shame out of her tone.

"Your life," Garsiv said. Tamina nodded. For a moment the Prince was silent, contemplative even then something changed in his features, "you will not do that."

"I most certainly will!" Tamina shot back, her tone bright with outrage as the thought of how many people had already died for the Dagger burned in her head.

"I do not understand what this Dagger does, not fully, no more than I understand what has transpired between you and my brother," he said, "but any fool can see that he cares for you and I will not let him feel the pain of that loss."

Tamina opened her mouth to tell him that it was not his choice but Garsiv, it seemed, was not finished.

"And I will not stand by and watch you sacrifice yourself needlessly."

"My sacrifice is needed," Tamina said, getting to her feet, "do not speak of what you do not understand. Every life out there was given in service to the Dagger, so that I may live to see the Dagger safe. It is not safe, not here-"

"It is safe in Alamut," the Prince said, "you said it yourself, Princess, only a fool would attack the main gate of Alamut and that was before you had the support of the entire Persian army."

"And not every army's got a Dastan," Bis pointed out helpfully.

Tamina looked between them. What they were suggesting was preposterous. Bring the Dagger back to Alamut. Even with the other Hassansin's dead they had no way of knowing how many were still there. Even if by some miracle they managed to destroy them all, there was nothing to say that another threat would not arise. That some whisper of the Dagger's power would not entice a wicked man to do terrible things. And yet even as her mind came up with good and practical reasons why she should find a way to get the Dagger and end her life, she knew deep in her bones that she would walk out of the Temple with the two men who stood beside her. She would not give her life back. Not today, not like this.

A shiver worked its way across her skin.

The walls of Alamut had held strong for a thousand years, only breached by one who had been destined to find the Dagger all along. There had to be a reason for that. Nizam's treachery, the Dagger's power, all of it had to be tied to the Prince who had used it for good rather than evil. She had to believe that the nobility of that was something he shared with his brothers. Neither had moved to use the Dagger or even to examine it further after she had told them what it was capable of, both seemingly more occupied with making sure that she was alright. Bis did not want to be the Prince anymore than Garsiv wanted to be King. They loved Dastan and, if Tamina had to guess, she would say they loved Tus as well.

Something warm settled around her shoulders. She looked up to see Garsiv wrapping his ornate outer robe around her shoulders. The smell of him was sharper than Dastan but the feeling of warmth was wonderful. Tamina looked up at him but Garsiv seemed to have found a spot on the water very interesting as he stepped back with a light cough, obviously uncomfortable in extending gestures of kindness. Bis dropped next to her on the rocks, picking up her hand as he began to wind bandages around her injury. Tamina watched him, the feeling of detachment only increasing as she realized she would not be giving her life. She felt ashamed at the relief that filled her. She should have been proud, she should not have hesitated, she should not want to live so badly. Not when so many had died.

"We will ride for Alamut," Garsiv said, "Bis and I will take care of the last of the Hassansins."

"Dastan'll probably head for Alamut next," Bis said, "knowing him he will get there before us even."

"what makes you think that?" Garsiv asked dryly, "she was smart enough to take Aksh and in the desert there are no walls for Dastan to vault over."

Bis laughed at Garsiv's teasing, as if he was used to the brother's making fun of each other as well. The three of them soon lapsed into silence, the two men occasionally speaking but Tamina remained silent. There were no words in her. It all seemed so impossible that it had played out this way. That Garsiv and Bis believed her, that the two of them had been there. That she had hoped someone would stop her and, impossibly, they had. She was alive, she was safe. The Dagger was safe as well. Everything was alright. The thought was staggering. Everything was alright and suddenly the world seemed impossibly bleak.

The guardians who had lived there were dead. Dastan most likely hated her. Her focus had been single minded on getting the Dagger to the Temple, she had been certain that this was where her destiny lay. And yet somehow it did not. She knew she was not meant to die in this place. The linage of the Guardians was not meant to end. Not this day, not by her hand. Tamina's eyes burned as she looked at the water, fighting back the urge to cry. She would not weep in front of these men. They had seen her at her weakest but she still had some scrap of pride left. Somewhere deep inside.

"We need to leave," Garsiv said to her, "Hassansins or no, staying in this place for another moment is something I am not going to do," he looked at Tamina, "we need to get you and the Dagger back to Alamut."

Tamina nodded, getting to her feet.

"Follow me," she said, leading them over to where the passageway led to the Temple. They followed her as she led them to the corridor, easily following her through the darkness. Tamina led them towards the ledge where the passageway dropped down. When she turned she saw they were both standing behind her, seemingly undeterred by the darkness of the tunnel.

"Up there," she said, "there is a passageway that leads out into a house. One of the Hassansins was in there but it has been hours."

"I'll go first then shall I?" Bis said with an easy smile, jumping up and grabbing the ledge, swinging his body into the darkness. Tamina turned towards Garsiv.

"I am sorry for doubting your love for your brothers," she said, "please know if I thought you were a threat I would not have spoken of the Dagger to you."

"I am only sorry it was my Uncle's treachery that brought us to your city," Garsiv said, "and you to our family."

Tamina's lips curved into the first honest smile she had given in a day.

Garsiv bent down, cupping his hands to give her a boost to the ledge. Grabbing onto it himself he swung his body upwards and climbed into the space behind her. The three of them made their way along the darkened space towards the end. Though the two men were much larger than she, neither complained as they made their way along the sand on their bellies. When they reached the end, before she could direct him Bis's nimble fingers found the concealed panel and slowly slid it back, revealing the dim light that filtered into the house. The few minutes they waited for Bis's return were the longest Tamina could remember. But soon the familiar mop of dark hair appeared, this time with a torch in hand.

"Its safe," Bis said, motioning them out.

They stepped out of the crawl space and out into the house. It was just past dusk, almost dark outside and for that, Tamina was thankful. In the darkness she could not see the destruction of the home Asma had so painstakingly created for her family. Forcing her eyes to go to the doorway, Tamina kept her gaze upwards as she stepped through and into the night air. It was a cool night, the low temperature dampening the smell of death that hung in the air. Bis was holding a torch aloft, looking at the path with doubt in his eyes. Tamina refused to think on what that meant. They had to get down off the place and back to Alamut. If the Dagger would not be safe here, it would be back in the city. Tamina turned her head to the side, looking around for another torch.

"Tamina!"

The wind brought the desperate cry of her name on its breeze. Tamina's eyes widened, her body turning towards the shout. Even in the darkness she could see Dastan running up the hill, his sword drawn. He had managed to get new clothing and weapons. He gave no thought for secrecy or silence, his voice loudly calling for her even as his hand held a torch aloft to try and find her. Every time his feet stopped she could see the horror that shown on his face as more death was illuminated by the feeble light of the torch. But still he pressed on. Tamina knew if she had been among the dead he would not have stopped until he found her.

He had found her.

Her heart leapt into her throat. He had found her. In spite of what she had done he had still come after her. He had not abandoned her to her mission, to her duty. He was there, he was looking for her. She could see figures behind him, also with torches, also looking for her and the Dagger. She was paralyzed but not with shock or fear. This time it was with relief. He was there, he had come for her and for the first time in a day Tamina felt as though she could breathe. Death surrounded her, the weight of what she had almost done was almost unbearable but knowing that he was there somehow, impossibly, made the load easier to carry.

"Dastan!"

She barely recognized her own voice as she shouted his name. He whirled to face her, the torch raising as his eyes searched through the darkness and suddenly Tamina was running, Garsiv's ornate cloak falling to the ground behind her. Scrambling over rocks and Gods knew what in the darkness. But all that mattered was reaching him. The bruises on her skin, the long cuts on her back and her hands, none of them mattered as she pushed her body to the edge. All that mattered was getting to him. She was sure she had never run faster and yet she was certain it had never taken her so long to get to the bottom of the path where he stood. Her vision was lost to the blur of tears, her breath to the sobs that caught in her throat. But those things were nothing more than a passing thought as she raced towards him.

The moment her feet entered the feeble light of the torch, it clattered to the ground and for a moment she was lost in the darkness.

Then his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his the warmth of chest and suddenly Tamina could breathe again.

Her first breath was shaky as the familiar scent of him invaded her senses. Only this time it was not a scent that clung to her stolen garments, it was the scent of the man himself. She could feel the warmth of his body, the rise and fall of his chest, even the frantic pound of his heart. Her second breath was lost as sobs tore at her. All the people dead, all the destruction she had seen, him being there, all of it was suddenly too much. Dastan's arms tightened around her as she began to weep in earnest, her body leaning heavily against his. He took her weight on his frame, his arms crushing her against him. She could feel him tremble with relief at having found her safe and whole but the show of care only made her sob harder in the safety of his embrace. His chest vibrated as he spoke, his tone low and soothing but his words were lost to her tears. But if she had been able to hear him, she would have heard him whisper the same comforts to her she had whispered to him when he had broken down against her in the Temple in Alamut.

"Its alright, Tamina. I'm here, its alright."

* * *

**And he's back! But who are these people with him? But Yayy for Garsiv!**

**Next time Dastan's got a bit of explaining to do. Garsiv might not push Tamina but he's not going to let his brother just be quiet. **

**Now I know I took some liberties with Bis but the dude had two lines. However he was with the brothers when they were talking to each other so it seems like he's a part of their crew. Probably closer to Dastan than the others but I like the idea of him being kinda friends with the rest of them. **

**Phew, okay, so that was officially two updates in one day! And long ones too! Hopefully I'll pull that off again tomorrow before I head to the library the day after, but no promises. But hey! I know how you can make me try to do it. Support our MBR! I'm loving Nini's term for our Mutually Beneficial Relationship! The one where you review and I update! It works so well! I love it, you love it and I KNOW you wanna find out what happens with D/T and the bros. **

**So please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay I'm keeping the poll for another day. We're still locked with "Wedding Night Smut" and "Just give me smut I don't care", so as of right now I'll take that to mean you want the wedding night or just don't care WHAT is written, only that is dirty (you naughty naughty people). Don't worry though it'll come AFTER the updates. **

**So Koolkat031898- no I haven't actually written the scene yet. But I will. Che-Tus will be here soon, not yet, but soon. Hannah, Sofaki, everyone else-so agree. Dastan should be angry (ANGER SEX). And there is gonna be some explaining to do. MadameDePont-don't even think about that! We got some ways to go before we get there and we'll ump that sucker when we come to it. **

**WOO HOO with reviews! You guys freakin RULE! Update time! *does a little dance* and now some brotherly lovin! Now I'm not promising two updates today but, who knows...**

**SO back to the story!**

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No-one spoke as they sat around the fire.

The stress of the past day had been too much for Tamina. She had wept against his chest for what felt like hours before loosing herself to an uneasy sleep. Dastan had settled her in his bedroll before joining the others. It was surreal to see Bis there, his wedding finery stained with sand, but seeing Garsiv in this place filled him with nothing but dread. Bis had gone off to the rest of the men. His friend was sharp, he knew Garsiv and Dastan had words to exchange. When Dastan raised his eyes to look at his brother, he found that Garsiv too was staring at the fire. Finally though, the older Prince broke the silence between them.

"I had thought your strange behavior came from being so shocked your wife to be wasn't a hag," Garsiv said, mixing insults seamlessly with the start of his apology, "but it seems there was more to it."

Dastan's eyes widened as he stared at his brother. The way Garsiv was speaking, it sounded as if Tamina had revealed something of the Dagger's secret to him. But she guarded that so adamantly, why would she tell Garsiv? And Bis? Obviously they were family but he did not think that Tamina valued such things, not in the way that he did. And yet the way that he was looking at him, Dastan realized that Garsiv knew some of what was going on. Not the whole story, or he had a feeling his brother would be ranting, but he knew some of it. Dastan looked back at the fire, feeling oddly guilty for keeping secrets from him.

He had gone to the Sheik moments after waking up and discovering Tamina's disappearance, only to find the world seemed to be plotting against him. In the middle of the night something or someone had gotten to the stables, opened the gates and spooked the horses. There were a handful left in the city and the Sheik was suddenly facing a widespread riot. Still one look at Dastan's lack of clothing and anguished features and the Sheik immediately found him new clothes and one of the few horses. Dastan still was not sure how Seso had come to accompany him, only that when he had ridden from the Valley the Ngbaka had been silently behind him. He had gotten them to the Temple as quickly as he could but it was still dusk by the time they reached it.

Dastan knew Garsiv and Bis were hunting the Hassansins but he had not been prepared to look up and find them standing there, still in the finery from the wedding feasts. Even without knowing what Tamina was planning they had managed to stop her, take out most of the Hassansins and learn an earth shattering secret without batting so much as an eye. Garsiv was so loud and quick to anger that sometimes Dastan forgot just why he rode at the head of the Persian army. Slowly he raised his eyes to see his brother looking up at him, his own dark eyes shadowed in thought.

"She told you what the Dagger did," Dastan said.

"Yes," Garsiv said, "and now it falls on you to tell me what happened. I know it takes the user back in time, which leads me to believe there is an explanation why you have been acting strangely this past month."

"I haven't been acting strangely," Dastan said looking at the fire.

"Not sleeping, not eating, not drinking, you hardly speak back to me," Garsiv said, counting the strange behaviors on his fingers, "and you look your brothers and father as if they would disappear."

"Nizam-" Dastan began.

"Don't even think about it!" Garsiv shouted over his shoulder at Bis, "our Uncle's treachery was a shock to all," Garsiv continued in a lower voice, "but you seem to know the extent of his plans better than any other. I have turned this over in my head Dastan-"

"Well if you're doing that," Dastan began, receiving a sharp glare from the dark haired Prince.

"There is no way for you to have known what you did. Not unless you had seen something the rest of us did not," Dastan looked away, "Dastan," Garsiv moved slightly closer to him, a familiar look of discomfort at offering such comfort passing over his face before he shoved it aside, "now is not the time to keep secrets."

The story came from his lips, haltingly at first and then it flowed so that he could not have stopped if he wished. Garsiv listened, his face unreadable as Dastan told him of what had transpired. If his voice faltered when he described the death of their father, of Bis, of Tus, of Garsiv himself, the second Prince did not show anything on his face. He listened to Dastan's strange tale, though most of the time it seemed as though Dastan spoke to the fire rather than his brother. He told him of Nizam's plan, of his own disgrace at choosing to believe Tus was the culprit rather than their Uncle. Of clinging to the rock, of his hand, slick with blood, releasing Tamina so she could fall to her death. He told Garsiv of opening the Dagger, of preventing their Uncle from going back to the moment he had saved their father. He continued past when he came to the city again, when he stopped Nizam and faced Tamina for the second time, so overcome with relief that she was alive he did not feel sadness at her not remembering him. When his tale finished, he tore his eyes from the fire and looked at his brother.

Garsiv was silent for a moment, taking in the words that Dastan had said. For the life of him Dastan did not know what was going on in his brother's head. Would Garsiv think him mad for what he had said? Even as he told the tale Dastan knew it sounded insane. Troubling too, for it meant their Uncle had almost succeeded in his plan twice. It was one thing to hear their Uncle speak of taking the throne, it was another to know he would murder his brother and his nephews to get to it. After several silent moments, Garsiv shifted on his seat and looked at Dastan.

"I am not sure which I find more unbelievable. The fact that you saved the world from our Uncle's treachery twice, or the fact that you have twice stolen my horse."

Dastan stared at him, almost too shocked to speak. Garsiv was not calling him a liar or mad, he believed him. Suddenly the guilt that Dastan felt was a thousand times worse. If Garsiv believed him then Tus would as well. And yet he found he felt lighter than he had in a month. Garsiv understood, he believed him. The burden he carried was not solely his. There was someone else, someone who knew about the Dagger who had not been trained since birth to understand its complexities. Taking a shaky breath, Dastan knotted his hands together and stared at the flames, feeling oddly young and foolish for keeping secrets from his brothers.

"Dastan," Garsiv's tone was almost strangled as he looked at him, "you aren't going to cry are you?"

Dastan looked up at his brother. Garsiv was looking at him like he was a bomb about to explode or a horse about to run. Displays of emotion other than anger had never been a strong suite of Garsiv's. Especially not when the displays came from someone else and _he_ was the one expected to offer comfort. Dastan had come to discover this when they were children. A month after his adoption into the royal family a dignitary came and brought his son with him. The boy had been foul, convinced that he was the son of an important man and made it known to all who walked by who his father was. Tus had been invited to observe the proceedings which left Garsiv and Dastan to deal with the boy. Garsiv ignored him but Dastan had tried to make friends, doing his best to act in the way his father had instructed him.

The boy had called Dastan a plaything of the Kings and said it would be days before his father realized what a disgusting thing Dastan was and would be quick to send him back to the gutter. Dastan had been so shocked he had stared at the boy for a minute before running away. The entire palace searched for him but it was Tus and Garsiv who found him sitting on a wall, sobbing. It took Tus two hours to convince Dastan that he was a part of the family as Garsiv watched silently. The treaty had been in shambles because of his antics and the moment they got within sight of the palace and Dastan saw the boy, he had been all but ready to leave himself. Only Tus's hand had stopped him from turning and running back to the gutters where he belongs.

Then, without warning, Garsiv launched himself at the boy and tackled him to the ground.

Tus with his words had helped but the sight of Garsiv sitting on the dignitaries son, pummeling him and shouting the most foul words Dastan had ever heard in his entire life was the most comforting thing he had ever seen. Tus's hand stopped him from running to his brother's aide but it was not as though Garsiv needed help. It was not until later that Dastan realized the servants who rushed forward to pull the boys apart had waited for Garsiv to get a few good hits in first. When the boys had been yanked apart and the tearful son of the dignitary was being led away Garsiv had shouted that _he_ was the one who belonged in the gutter, not Dastan. The King had shouted at them for days, Nizam looking at them wit disapproval in his eyes. But they had born the punishments he doled out silently, Dastan's heart secretly leaping at the knowledge that he was in trouble with the rest of his family.

Garsiv's loathing of emotional displays had not abated with age. Anger was still the first emotion he went for when something was wrong. But ever since that day his anger had never scared Dastan again. He knew that no matter how loud Garsiv yelled or how foul his swears were, his brother would be the first to defend him in a fight, no matter the consequences. Even when Garsiv had been sure Dastan had killed their father he had refused to truly harm him. When he had met Dastan with the axe, Dastan had known he would not kill him, no more than Dastan would kill Garsiv. They were brothers, there was no other explanation.

"No," Dastan said sweeping a hand across his eyes, "I am not going to cry."

"Thank God," Garsiv said shaking himself before he looked at the fire and then at his brother, "did you cry when I died?" he asked.

"Did I what?" Dastan demanded, shocked he would ask such a thing.

"Did you cry?" Garsiv repeated the question, "tell me _someone_ wept at my death," Dastan opened and closed his mouth but no words came out, "did you cry at Tus's death? Because if you cried for him and not for me I swear to God Dastan-"

"I did not cry at either of your deaths! I was a little busy," Dastan said, "I was running for my life at Bis's and yours-"

"I'm sorry," Bis said appearing behind them as if out of thin air, "did you say my death?"

"Dastan used that Dagger to turn back time," Garsiv said, "apparently there were a few days where Nizam almost took over the empire, the world was almost destroyed by a great storm, oh, and you, me, the King, Tus and the Princess over there died."

"No kidding," Bis said turning to Dastan, "good thing we stopped her from using that Dagger huh?"

Dastan looked desperately between the two of them. One of them had to freak out, they just _had_ to. He could not have been the only one who struggled with what was going on. Bis's easy grin, Garsiv's butchering of the story, all of it was too much for him. Even if they had not lived through it, he refused to believe that the worst thing in the exchange was that he had stolen Garsiv's precious horse twice. Before he knew it he was on his feet, looking between the two of them as they stared back from their seated and crouched positions, looking at him as though _he_ was the insane one.

"You cannot be taking this so calmly!" Dastan protested loudly.

"What's shouting about it going to do?" Bis asked, fixing Dastan's gaze with his own before turning to Garsiv, "tell me, do you think telling women that their looks brought me back from the grave is too morbid?"

Garsiv frowned, seeming to actually consider an opinion on the subject as Dastan stared at them, too shocked to feign composure. He wished that their behavior was out of character for them but, sadly, it was not. Garsiv was not the type to dwell on things and Bis, well, Bis had never dwelt on a thing a day in his life. He had not been born into total poverty like Dastan but his upbringing was a far cry from the palace. Bis's father had died from an ill sought revenge attempt on a former business partner and the young man had learned firsthand not to dwell on regrets or grudges. Naturally Bis was one of the happiest people Dastan had ever met, though he hid it well with sarcasm, practicality and wit. Yet nothing, not war or treacherous Uncles or being brought into the fold of the three Princes inner circle could dampen the young man's bright outlook.

Dastan had met Bis the day before the King had taken him to the palace. Within three he was back to see his new friend, shocked by the fact that being the son of a King could allow him such a luxury. In spite of how little they had, Bis's mother always insisted he stay for dinner and share their meal. Dastan was never sure where he got it in his head that he should return the favor but he would always remember the way Bis's mother had looked when he brought the pair to the palace so that they could share in his meal. He had not seen anything wrong with what he was doing and, shockingly, neither had his family. He still saw Bis more often in the marketplace than at the palace for the first few years he had known him but when Bis's mother had died, Dastan had found a way to get the young man into the palace to live with them.

His brothers had appreciated Bis's honesty and wit almost more than he did. Unlike the other friends they had, Bis never treated either of them like God walking the earth. He said that they would be working for him as his King and they had better well get used to hearing from him when they did something he didn't like. It had been Bis who suggested Dastan get a few of their street friends together to form a task force for the army. They knew they needed more men so they took to roaming the streets, looking for talented people. Soon Dastan sent Bis out on his own after the first day when it became apparent that when they were together Bis's idea of deciding whether a man was good enough to join was to declare Dastan the best fighter and see who would challenge him.

Even now the two if them were honestly wondering if telling a woman that her looks brought him back from the grave would go further towards getting Bis a woman.

"What is it with the two of you and standing?" Bis demanded, "you look like you're going to fall over as well. Sit. Her I can catch, you, well," he shrugged, "you weigh more."

Dastan dropped into the seat, staring at the two of them, their conversation fading as he gaped at the fire. He had been so sure he would have to convince them. Garsiv had been so willing to fight him the last time this had happened. But there was no terror at their father's death, no manipulative Uncles to breathe poisonous lies, no kingdom undergoing the stress and uncertainty of a regime change. He had been acting strange, their Uncle's treachery had been revealed, his brother's had no reason to doubt him and yet for the life of him Dastan could not have predicted they would believe his tale. His ashen expression must have caught their eye because the noise abruptly stopped, both turning to look at the shocked Prince. They spoke for a moment before Bis nodded and faded back into the shadows, leaving the brothers to speak. Garsiv moved closer to Dastan, though is discomfort with the situation remained clear on his face.

"Dastan," he began, "you cannot honestly think we would not believe you," he said.

"The last time-"

"I cannot speak of the events that did not happen," Garsiv said, "but you believed Tus was a traitor, so I suppose anything is possible. But," he continued, his voice firm, "that time did not happen. We are all alive and, though I cannot believe I am going to say this, it is thanks to you."

Dastan looked at him. Garsiv's face was honest and open, he truly believed what he was saying. Not for the first time that night Dastan felt young and embarrassed at keeping secrets and thinking the worst of his siblings. The shame must have shown on his face because amusement sparked in Garsiv's eyes, the kind of unabashed delight that only came from seeing his younger brother suffering. Placing his hand on his shoulder, Garsiv turned his head and looked at the outline of Tamina's sleeping form.

"So, tell me little brother, are you a man yet?"

Dastan opened his mouth to tell his brother that he had been a man for years but it was too late. The memories of that night with Tamina were too fresh in his mind and in spite of everything at his brother's inquiry he felt heat stain his cheeks. Garsiv's face broke into a grin of further delight at the sight of his little brother's humiliation and the hand on his shoulder tightened as Garsiv laughed.

"Worth the wait was it?" Garsiv asked.

"No," Dastan said turning to him, raising a finger "I am not speaking to you about this," Garsiv raised an eyebrow and Dastan felt his cheeks burn further at the look on his brother's face, "no," he repeated, "Garsiv-"

"Garsiv," his brother mocked in a high, feminine voice that Dastan was sure sounded nothing like his own, "remember, little brother, your first wedding night is the one you always remember."

Dastan looked at him before his gaze moved to Tamina. In the glow of the fire he could make out the form of her body, still dressed in his cloths and wrapped in the bedroll he had found on the horse. He could still remember the drop of his stomach when he had ridden into the Temple and seen so many dead. The idea that she was among them was one that made him feel sick. And the relief at hearing her shout to him, at seeing her own relief naked on her tear streaked face, it was almost enough to bring him to the ground. He could still feel the wetness on his shirt from when she had sobbed against him, weeping for what he knew was the first time all day. And if he thought back further he could still remember with shocking clarity what it had felt like when she had given in to him, when she had finally let down all the walls between the two of them.

"Garsiv-"

"Not again with this 'one wife' business," his brother said rolling his eyes, "magic Dagger or no, you can't serious be considering having just one woman in your life. You're a Prince, its unseemly."

"I already lost her once," Dastan said looking at his brother, "I will not loose her again."

"You could still have another wife," Garsiv said but Dastan shook his head. Something must have shown on his face because a look close to revulsion shown on Garsiv's own features, "I have seen that look on a face before," Garsiv said, "on our father's face. You are in love with her."

Dastan stared at him.

"No," he said quickly, "I haven't known her long, it was only a few days when I changed time-"

"That does not matter. Father always said that the first night he met my mother he knew that she was the woman he-" Garsiv grimaced as though he had eaten something sour, "he loved."

Dastan shook his head. He was well aquatinted with his brother's feelings towards love though he could hardly blame them for looking at it with such distaste. Both men approached marriage like a business venture, love had very little to do with it. Dastan thanked his stars every day that the few alliance marriages that had been proposed with _him_ as the groom had fallen through. Garsiv and Tus were not as fortunate. There was still more prize in marrying a blood relative of the King than his adopted son, though Dastan could hardly find it in himself to complain about such things. That, it seemed, was the one advantage to being seen as less of a son than his brothers. Dastan put a hand on his brother's shoulder, the gesture full of false, dramatic sympathy for Garsiv.

"Not all of us can be seen as such a catch," he said, referring pointedly to Garsiv's handful of wives.

"And not all of us can find a woman quite so willing to abandon us to the wilds of the desert," Garsiv returned evenly.

"If you two are done with the girl talk, its Dastan's turn for watch," Bis said coming beside them.

The two looked at each other before looking at the young man. The other Hassansins were still out there and gods knew what else in the wilds. Their camp was on the outskirts of the village, the rocks to their back. Still they were taking turns at watch, allowing people to have sleep while others scanned for threats on the horizon. Dastan nodded to Bis before turning back to Garsiv.

"Actually she tied me up first," Dastan said, unable to resist the opportunity to mock his brother further, "then she left me there."

Garsiv opened and closed his mouth several times, seemingly to shocked to speak at the knowledge of what Tamina had done. Dastan did not tell him of what else had transpired between them, preferring to let his brother's wicked, knowledgeable mind come up with all sorts of creative things. Outrage shown on Garsiv's face as Dastan clapped him on the shoulder one more time, pushing himself to his feet and walking away from the fire.

His feet paused as he came to stand beside Tamina. She was exhausted, not even stirring when he stood beside her. She looked impossibly small, dressed in his clothing and tucked into the bedroll of a much larger man. He had felt the precise bandages Bis had applied to her back and hand, though he knew the latter had been to keep her from performing the ritual. Even without knowing what was going to happen, Garsiv had managed to save her life. Slowly Dastan knelt down next to the sleeping Princess. Her black hair was matted to her tear streaked face, hiding the features underneath.

Before he could stop himself his hand reached out, gently pulling her hair back. Tamina's features tightened as she stirred under his touch. Dastan froze, his fingertips resting on her jaw. Her features smoothed out, relaxing as sleep took her once more. Dastan let his fingertips linger against her skin, just for a moment, before he withdrew his hand. As he looked at her he wondered if Garsiv could have been right. If there father had been telling the truth. It had been more than a day for him and Tamina. Could there be love between them? There was so much they needed to say to each other. This time Dastan knew he would not let her run away, not until they made sense of the situation they were in.

Pushing himself to his feet, he went to take his watch and wait for the dawn.

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**Okay so I admit the bro-love got away from me. But no worries, next time its D/T ALL THE WAY! Hopefully this has knocked some sense into our fav. Princess and she and Dastan can figure this out. Because if she doesn't want him, I do.**

**Okay its MBR time people! Go down to the bottom and hit the review button! I've been updating at a breakneck pace (even for me) and you guys have kept up WONDERFULLY! I'm very impressed! Please keep it up! Remember you want updates, I want reviews and we can make each other happy!**

**So please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay people, here's another and hopefully the last, public service announcement.**

**As I have said before, any reviews that are insulting to me as a person and/or to other reviewers will be deleted. Any people who have done this in the past will have that and any future reviews deleted as fast as I can get to a computer. Sorry but my blackberry doesn't get me to the deletion page, I gotta go to a real comp. Now, to my great frustration, I already have several people who are in that category, two of which seem to feel the need to continuously review. Please do not become one of them. Seriously I appreciate you coming to my defense but like my author notes, I do not want my review space to become an argument. Do not feed the trolls, just ignore them. **

**Because in all seriousness, I don't even read their reviews. **

**Almost every story has one (or two, lucky me) persistent anonymous reviewers who just don't know when to quit and after a lot of experience I have learned that the thing to do is just delete their reviews without reading them. Seriously why bother? If you're stupid enough to not know when to stop, I don't really care what you have to say. I'm just sorry it stays up long enough for you guys to take it on yourselves to reply! But please don't. The last thing you want to be is in the same category with those petty enough to insult people they don't even know. **

**Now back to the fun stuff! Songs are awesome and you guys have kicked ASS with reviews. AND double update! Yay! Tomorrow is library day but I'll try to have the new chapter up for you by nightfall. Or later. Who knows, but it will be there! **

**Now onto D/T Goodness! Lets let these kids work out their problems shall we?**

**Back to the story!**

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Slowly Tamina opened her eyes.

It was just past dawn, the rosy light of the sun making pale streak across the sky. Laying on her side, Tamina could see the pale sky and the cool sand that stretched endlessly around her. She could feel hard rocks underneath her side and cheek. It took her sleep fogged mind a moment to remember where was, to recall what had transpired yesterday between herself and Dastan's family, between herself and Dastan. When the memories hit her, her breath caught in her throat. Adrenaline coursed through her and she bolted upright. Agony seared across her at the rough movement, making it impossible to breathe. Her eyes shot around the area, taking in the remains of the fire and the shapes of sleeping men.

Finally her eyes settled on Dastan.

He was sitting a ways off, his back to the camp as his eyes scanned for threats. She could see the new clothing he had managed to get, as well as the twin swords strapped to his back. He looked more comfortable in the clothing, certainly more comfortable than she had seen him when he met her dressed in the clothes that his position demanded he wear. Fear swam through her. She knew that no matter who she was if she ran to him in hysterics he would comfort her. It was just the kind of person he was. But her hysterics had left and in their wake an ache had settled in her chest. She still felt raw, frayed even but embarrassment eclipsed those emotions. The walls she had depended on, the arms length she had kept the world at, all of it was gone now and though she knew it would happen eventually, she still wished that they had that between them. That she had some kind of armor going into this confrontation.

Slowly Tamina got to her feet, surprised at how even with the emotions churning through her she still felt more confident and sure walking towards him than she had when heading to put the Dagger into the rocks. Her eyes widened at the thought of the Dagger. Her eyes moved over the men laying there before she pushed thoughts of it aside. This was her first problem and she had a feeling if she uttered the word Dagger within Dastan's hearing range he was going to take the thing and use it on himself. She gave no thought to silence as she walked forward, a part of her hoping he would hear her coming but if he did he gave no indication of it as she closed the distance between them, coming to stand behind him.

From his position Dastan listened to Tamina's footsteps but could not bring himself to look at her. Not yet. For the life of him he did not know what he would say to her. A part of him wished that she was still the haughty, standoffish Princess in his eyes, the woman he had no problem leaving in the middle of the desert until she called his honor into question. But when she slowly eased herself down next to him after a moment of consideration, he knew they could never go back to how things had been between them. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her ebony hair, tumbling over the white of his shirt. She had left his brother's robe on her bedroll but if the chill of the dawn affected her, she did not show it.

"Dastan," she began, "I should not-"

"No," he stopped her. She turned to look at him, "you shouldn't apologize for doing your duty," she stared at him, "it is I who should apologize," he continued but the tone of her voice did nothing to make the tightness in her chest ease, "I was the fool for thinking for a moment that you would stay."

Tamina looked down, shame filling her. He was angry, she could hear it in his tone. He had put some kind of faith in her and she had done nothing but stamp it down. He knew that she would leave him but he still hoped that she would have stayed. The guilt she felt was suddenly almost crippling in its weight. The idea that he had believed she would change and she had only proved to him that she would not made her feel sick. And yet at the same time she knew that she had acted how she had to. That whatever he wished, it did not change that destiny had a plan. No matter how desperate he was to change it.

"You speak of changing destiny but surely you've seen by now that destiny has led us along the same path as before," she said desperation in her tone.

"Fine! Let us suppose for _one _minute I believe in destiny. Maybe-" he stopped, anger in his eyes, "maybe you are destined to protect the Dagger above all else. And maybe I am destined to protect you above all else."

"Your destiny is to protect the Dagger!"

"Well I won't do it. Not if it means you die."

It was harder this time to call forth the anger at his words. It did not flow naturally, racing through her veins. Now that she had touched death, now that it had almost come to pass, she could not bring herself to protest his words. Because she had faced death and the single most terrible thing about it was that she could not remember why she had though it would be such an honor to die for the Dagger. That when it had come time to give her life in service of what she believed the only thing she had thought about was him.

"Why must you be so Gods cursed stubborn?" she demanded furiously, "two days ago I would have thought of nothing but honor when I placed the Dagger into the rock."

"Don't-"

"No!" she struggled to her feet, her eyes burning, "no I will speak of it. Because I must. Because at the moment when I thought that my death would save the world I did not think of honor or pride or anything but you!"

The last word was heavy with accusation, as though it was Dastan's fault that her thoughts had been only on him. But the worst of it was that the Prince looked at her the same way he had that night on the desert, as if he could see right through her walls and her facades, right now to the core of who she was. As if he knew what she truly meant to say rather than the words that spilled clumsily from her lips. Tamina looked down at the ground, shame churning in her stomach at having admitted what she had. Dastan knew, he knew the meaning of her words but to hear them aloud only made her feel worse. She forced aside the embarrassment and shame, focusing on the anger as she glared at him.

"My marriage was supposed to be a sham!" she continued, "I was supposed to marry a man for an alliance, something that would bring peace to Alamut and produce the next Guardian to take my place. My husband was never supposed to know as much about the Dagger as you do!"

Dastan listened to her angry words but only a fool would miss the tears that brightened her eyes and the way her fingers tightened in the fold of his pants. She was furious, not at him but at herself. At the council for making her agree to the marriage. At all the things that had happened that seemed to bring them closer and closer together. How every turn, every time she left or betrayed him it hurt more and more. This time it had been agony, what would happen the next time? If it came down to it could she even pull it off? The thought was so bleak, the helplessness so powerful, her entire body felt weak.

"I am the Dagger's Guardian," she said, "every person who lays dead behind us trusted me to be able to perform a duty and, may the Gods help me, I do not know if I can," she closed her eyes against the stinging in them, "being the Dagger's Guardian is who I am. It is all that I am-"

"No," Dastan cut her off, unable to keep his silence.

Her eyes flew to his face and the look he saw in them was one he vowed he would never see again. She looked scared and so unsure, as if everything she had known had been ripped away. And in a way Dastan realized it had been. She had spent her entire life being told that hers was worth less than the Dagger. That whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, none of it mattered but that stupid, Gods cursed knife of hers. The thought made him sick and suddenly Dastan wanted nothing more than to march back into Alamut and beat the high council until they were all black and blue and bloody. Only the sight of the tears that threatened Tamina kept him there.

It was terrible to see her in such a state. Before when they had come the people living outside the Temple had been dead and duty had taken over all else. But this time she had watched them die. And that was after they had consummated their marriage. He did not regret what had happened to them, but the sight of her so broken made him feel helpless. Abruptly, almost insanely, he found he wanted nothing more than for her call him an idiot and do something foolish like leave him on the other side of a gate with smugglers on his ass. But there was no more lighthearted exchange, a seriousness had taken the place of their usual flippancy.

"I can't choose you over the world, I can't!" she said, repeating the words she had spoken before, shaking her head as if to convince herself of their truth.

"I won't ask you to," he said, fighting the urge to sound desperate himself. Tamina shook her head again, "please, Tamina-"

His anger was gone, replaced only by worry. The Dagger was safe but Tamina looked as though she was breaking apart and for the life of him he did not know what he could do to make it better. But, God, he wanted too. Desperately he wanted to. He reached for her and though her entire body tensed at the touch of his hand on her, she did not pull away from him. His rough palm touched her cheek, his plea for her to look at him not needing to be spoken. Her eyes opened to look up at him, the kohl she usually wore having long since been washed away by her tears. Even so Dastan found it impossible to look away from her.

"Our destiny's are intertwined, Tamina," he said, his voice low, "even I-who has never cared much for the thing-can see that. Maybe you were never supposed to have a husband like the one you describe. Maybe you were _always_ destined to be with me," her breath caught as his words echoed in her ears.

"Dastan-" she began.

"I told you I wouldn't let you go, that day on the rocks, and I meant that. I won't let you go Tamina. Whether its the Guardian Temple or the highest tower in Alamut, I will not let you bear this burden alone."

Tamina looked at him, her eyes searching his face for the lie in his words. But there was none she could see. He meant those words. She had fought so hard against what he was saying, but each step got harder to take away from him. Had this been what the Dagger was trying to tell her all along? He would choose her over the Dagger and she would choose the world over herself but every turn only seemed to make it clear that they were meant to be together. She could not deny how she felt when he was near, though she was sure she had never felt anything like it before. Did she even deserve to feel such a way? Slowly she reached up, her hand covering his before she drew it away from her face, unable to look at his features as she stared at the knuckles of his hand.

"I cannot ask you to do that," she said softly.

His hand moved against hers, turning so that her palm was pressed against his. The crawling and the water had removed the last of the henna from her skin. The hand that held his was only decorated by dirt, dirt that mirrored the filth covering his own hand. She watched his hand move, still unable to meet his gaze. She knew the honesty she would see there. She knew looking at him, seeing how much he meant the words he spoke, all of it would truly be her undoing. What she had not counted on was that the strong, steady tone of his voice would accomplish the same feat.

"You do not need to ask," he said, his words forcing the knot in her chest to loosen further.

His fingers tightened on hers. Dastan could see her resolve to keep them apart faltering. He had known she wanted him there from the moment she ran into his embrace. But that was not enough, not anymore. He knew she needed him, he needed her, to his eyes it was so impossibly simply. But his beautiful, brilliant wife did not see it. Not yet. Dastan refused to turn away and for all her struggles, Tamina did not pull back from him. He could see her fighting, trying to make sense of what he was saying and reconcile it with her own beliefs. Dastan forced himself to be patient, to have the last bit of faith that she would see the truth in his words. If his fingers tightened on hers, conveying the silent prayer in his throat, he could only hope she would understand.

It was only when her fingers tightened against his that he found he could breathe.

Tamina looked up at him, her eyes still bright with unshed tears. He truly meant what he said. That he would take her burdens, that he would help her bear the load she had been given by the Gods to carry. She had done it alone for so long, been untouchable for so long, she had almost forgotten what it was like to have another person there. But she could not deny it any longer. Not when the one time she had been forced to put her duty first, she had failed. She could not abandon him, that much was clear. And as she looked at him Tamina realized that she did not want to do so either. He cared about her and, inexplicably, she cared about him. Deeply, she cared about him. Tamina tightened her hand against his, feeling the warmth of his palm and the callouses of his hand against her skin.

"Gods," she looked down before raising her head to look at him, "why must you make everything so difficult?"

"I could ask the same of you," he said, a smile on his lips. Belatedly Tamina realized she was smiling as well, "Tamina-"

"I'm sorry," she said, cutting off what he was going to say. His mouth opened but she spoke quickly, "for leaving you there. I'm sorry. I should have trusted you."

Dastan's gaze softened and Tamina felt the last vestiges of tightness in her chest evaporate. He still looked at her the way he had that night, all her foolishness had not changed how he felt about her. He accepted her. Every fact of who she was, he accepted it. Tamina was sure she could have lived a thousand lifetimes and never met a man like the one who held her hand. What she had done to deserve him, she would never know but if it was the hand of destiny that brought them together, Tamina knew she would never doubt it again.

He did not kiss her this time. There was no heated embrace like their previous arguments and confessions always seemed to have dissolved into. This felt different, of that they were both certain. Not in a way that was bad or in a way that was final. It was like a new beginning, like a new chapter in their lives. As she held his hand Tamina knew the next time she rode off to save the Dagger she would do it with Dastan by her side, even if he still claimed to be destined to protect her rather than the blade.

"I have to finish watch," he said finally looking at the horizon before turning back to her, "stay with me?"

She nodded, sitting beside him on the rocks, their shoulders pressed together. The desert stretched endlessly around them as pink began to streak they sky, the sun rising further upwards. A breeze lifted the hairs on the back of her neck and Tamina felt a shiver work its way up her spine. A moment later, Dastan's arm slid across her shoulders and wrapped around her back, his forearm brushing against the cut on her back. Tamina inhaled sharply, pulling away from him. Dastan turned to look at her with concern on his face. They spoke at the exact same time.

"Sorry, my back-" Tamina began

"What happened?" Dastan asked

Both fell silent, looking at each other and fighting smiles.

"My back," Tamina repeated, her voice softening"a dart cut me. Its really nothing, it just a shallow cut."

"The shallow ones always sting," Dastan said, his eyes moving over the rest of her before landing on her hand, "and that?"

"A part of the ritual," Tamina said nodding to her palm before turning over, "and your brother."

"Garsiv?" Dastan questioned looking at the bandaged cut before realization crossed his features, "he made you drop the Dagger."

"He said there were enough secrets in Persia that he knew something was going to happen when I put the Dagger into the rock," she explained.

Dastan nodded, Garsiv was a smart man though his temper sometimes got in the way of his mind. Tamina leaned back closer to him and Dastan reached out, sliding his arm around her shoulders, careful not to disturb the bandages on her back. She leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. Dastan wished that he had something else to give her to keep her warm but in his haste to leave the Valley he had only taken the bare necessities. Tamina's body was warm against his and every bit as soft as he remembered.

"I did not know if you would remember the way," Tamina said softly, her tone almost shy.

"Surely by now you've got more faith in me than that," Dastan said, meeting her eyes with an easy smile, "besides I knew you wanted me to follow you."

Tamina pushed herself back, too outraged at his cocky tone to feel shame at the fact he had called her bluff. Dastan did not seem the least but off put at her glare. If anything he seemed pleased with it and Tamina realized underneath the outrage she felt she was pleased as well. This was familiar ground for them. Dastan's arm dropped to the rocks, taking his weight on as Tamina twisted to look at him fully, mindful of the injury on her back.

"And how, pray tell, did you know that?" she demanded, "I left you sleeping on that bed, you looked like you would not wake if a sandstorm blew through the window."

"You'll come to find that sex tends to have that effect on people," Dastan shot back, his blood racing to the fight.

"Well I'll keep that in mind then," Tamina returned, sparks in her eyes even as color stained her cheeks.

"And besides," Dastan said, "I think we can both agree that if you really wanted me to stay there you would have tied me up."

"Enjoy that did you?" Tamina asked, her eyes dancing as he fought not to look away, "I'll have to keep that in mind for next time."

"Yes you-" he stopped, her words sinking in.

She was blushing rather furiously but her sense of pride wouldn't let her back down from the fight at hand. Even with red on her cheeks her eyes shone with the thrill of the fight and utter delight at his shocked expression. Dressed in men's clothing, her hair plastered to her face streaked with dirt and tears she was still maddeningly beautiful. Maybe even more so. The illusion were gone from her now, stripped away. This was the Tamina he knew, the woman who thrilled to a fight and fought hard to keep a straight face. The Tamina who existed underneath the burdens of her station and the duties of being the Princess of Alamut.

This was the woman that Dastan was realizing he could be in love with.

"Garsiv accused me of being in love with you," he said.

Tamina looked at him, feeling oddly bold. Before his words of caring and of the love he claimed not to have so soon had made her feel afraid but as she looked at him now she did not know if that was so anymore. What she had felt over the past two days, it was more than affection. Resting her good hand on the rocks she leaned forward.

"Are you in love with me?" she asked

"I don't know," Dastan said, answering as honestly as he could, "but I think I might be."

Tamina did not wait a moment longer. She leaned forward and quickly pressed her lips to his. Dastan met her kiss almost eagerly, though both of theirs were sore and chapped. The kiss was lighthearted, playful even, with none of the desperate emotion that had torn at them before. Tamina pulled back, her dark eyes opening to lock on his face. He looked up at her, his eyes searching her features. Tamina's lips pulled into a smile as she looked at him.

"Good," she said before settling herself once more on his shoulder.

Dastan stared ahead, confused and shocked by what had happened but unable to deny the lightness in his chest or the smile on his lips. He looked down at the crown of Tamina's head.

"What about you?" he asked finally, knowing he sounded foolish and young.

"I think I have known you for a month-which is longer than I would have thought before we married-and that even in the space of such a short time you have managed to occupy my every thought."

"Me?" Dastan asked, "are you sure you aren't confusing me with that Dagger of yours?"

"Very well, you _and_ the Dagger have occupied my every thought," she said, "but you are what I find so infuriating."

"And that is why you cannot stop thinking about me?" he asked with a crooked smile.

"I don't know why I can't stop thinking about you," she said, pulling away and looking up at him, "but its good to know you might be in love with me."

"But-"

"We have shared much," she said, cutting him off, "but I'm afraid you still have me at a disadvantage," she said, easily referring to the time the Dagger had prevented from happening, "and," she continued resting her head back on his shoulder, "I promise that when I can properly name my feelings for you I will."

Dastan smiled and shook his head at her antics, knowing full well that she felt something far beyond affection for him. Just as he knew that she would not name her feelings before she was certain. But her weight was warm and firm against him and he knew she had confessed much to him. For now as they sat there Dastan realized that it was enough.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. By the time the sun had begun to show itself, the people in the camp were stirring. Dastan sighed, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to stay there with her and Tamina felt she could not help but agree. It was strange enough to have one person who had seen her without her walls, but the idea of facing all those other men who had seen her weeping against her husband was incredibly embarrassing. She had a feeling neither Garsiv nor Bis would give her much grief about it but she did not know the other men well enough to guess their reaction. But there was no choice, they had to turn and head back. The Dagger was still not safe.

Dastan got to his feet and turned towards her, holding out both of his hands instead of the usual one. Tamina placed her hands, the bandaged and the uninjuried, in his. Dastan's hands grasped her wrists, avoiding the injuries on her hand. He pulled her easily to her feet, so smoothly that her back did not even have time to twinge. Tamina did not bother to try and straighten her clothing or smooth her hair. She knew both were a lost cause. It also would have been impossible since the hand that was uninjured was occupied by Dastan's. His fingers easily slid through hers, his large hand encompassing her smaller one.

Together they walked back to camp hand in hand, neither willing to let the other go.

By the time they got back Bis and Garsiv were awake, talking to each other in low tones. As the two of them approached and both fell silent, Dastan was sure that either he, his wife or some combination of the two had been the subject of their conversation. Dastan raised his eyebrow at the two of them but both suddenly found Tamina to be the most interesting thing they had ever seen. If she was embarrassed at them seeing her weep, it was not apparent on her face. Whatever had transpired between the two of them before he got there, his brother seemed to be much more likable to Tamina than he remembered as Garsiv reached behind him and held out the water jug.

"Hows your hand?" he asked.

"It will heal," Tamina replied evenly, taking a drink and passing it back to him, "but I won't be holding things for a while."

Garsiv nodded as Tamina looked at Bis.

"I trust you still have it?" she said, her voice making it clear she was not asking a question.

"Have what?" the dark haired man asked, his brows knitting together.

Tamina's eyes widened but Dastan knew his friend was just toying with her. Sensing that now was not the time to be joking with Tamina, Dastan walked to Bis and held out his hand.

"Give it to me," he said.

"You're no fun," Bis complained, reaching behind his back and pulling out the Dagger.

Bis handed Dastan the Dagger.

Tamina's blood still stained the blade, the engravings made even more stark against the blade. Holding the blade in his hand, Dastan looked at the globe. he knew the red liquid that filled the glass was Tamina's blood. He watched the way the Sands stayed separate from the blood, floating in the glass with their silent promise of power and omnipotence. Bis and Garsiv watched him, their hawk like gazes taking in the Dagger. Both men knew what it represented, both aware of the power it could give them. It could have made either man a King with its power. Dastan glanced at the two of them, unsurprised to see wariness in their gaze. To say the thought of being King had never crossed their mind would be a lie, but the three men were fully aware of what the cost would be. Dastan looked at Tamina, her eyes easily leaving the Dagger to find his.

"What happens if I pour this out?" he asked.

"The Gods will not accept the Dagger without its price," she said, "sand and blood-the Sand and my blood."

"Its settled then," Dastan said opening the top of the Dagger and turning it upside down.

The red liquid pooled on the ash, mixing with the ash left from the fire. Dastan reached out with his foot, scuffing the ash over the mixture, until it simply looked like a pile of wet ash. He flipped the cap of the glass back in place and turned to Tamina, offering her the blade hilt first. She reached out and took it, holding the Dagger against her chest. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head in prayer. The three men were silent and respectful as she spoke, her head bowed. Finally she opened her eyes and looked at the three of them before turning around to look at the village they knew was filled with the dead.

"I cannot leave them like this," Tamina said, thinking of the guardians who lay there with the evidence of the Hassansins on their bodies, "they have given much to see the Dagger safe."

Dastan's hand settled on her shoulder.

"Then we will not leave them this way," he assured her, "tell us what to do."

Tamina looked at him.

"Alright," she said with a nod, "but only because you're so good at following orders."

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**Sorry, love that line. **

**So D/T are back together! YAY! I don't know why but I'm liking this idea of a smutty oneshot series with the two of them. But no promises. I've got to finish this sucker first!**

**MBR time!**

But not for the people who have had their reviews removed. This ends now. I will not have my story turned into a space for arguments filled with childish insults at myself or other reviewers. I feel like I shouldn't even have to tell you thats not what the review space is for! Please grow up and/or get some class. In the meantime, rest assured that your reviews will be up only for as long as I can get to a computer and delete them. I hope that all the parties involved in this incredibly unplesant situation will find it in themselves to stop reviewing, thereby putting an end to this ridiculous behavior.

**For the rest of you, you all kicked ASS last time and I thank you for it! keep it up! Hopefully we can keep the drama to the story once again! Today was a two for one update day but tomorrow we might just go back to one chapter! Either way, click that button and share your thoughts! Remember when you review it makes me want to update.**

**So please review! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay! So today is the last day for the poll! Right now it stands with "wedding night in all its sexy glory" leading the way followed closely by "Yes, God, just do it" and a bit further down is "delays=death" followed by "original oneshot" and then all the way down is "no my virginal eyes are good". Keep voting. Tomorrow I'll close the poll and announce the winning result in the next chapter. I've got a feeling that whats gonan end up happening is I do the smutty wedding night as a bonus scene and then I'll probably do another because they are hot and I want to. **

**Reviews, you guys rocked as always! Seriously I am awed by your ability to keep up with my update pace! I bet you all were wondering if because I had double updates two days in a row I wasn't gonna do it today. But hey! Look here's the new chapter! AND there's some action (not the sexy kind you pervs). **

**Back to the story!**

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"You know, Dastan, even Tus's wife had to work at him for a week before he would do anything for her," Garsiv said distastefully, "time travel or no, your wife works very quickly."

Dastan rolled his eyes at Garsiv's jab. He had known for a very long time that the moment he got a wife Garsiv would find something to pick apart. He knew his admission of love for Tamina had only made things worse. Garsiv was elated. Not at his brother's happiness but at the fact that there was more for him to mock Dastan about. Continuing to move sand on top of the graves they had dug, Dastan shook his head at his brother's antics. Saving the world, twice, stealing Garsiv's horse twice and his brother just continued to behave as, well, as Garsiv had _always_ behaved. In some ways it was infuriating but mostly Dastan just found it oddly comforting.

"Perhaps she could give your wives some lessons," Dastan offered with a quirk of his lips.

Garsiv glared up at him. His brother did not have as many wives as Tus but he still had more than enough. Dastan grinned down at him. He had long given his brother's grief about the many wives they had but now that he had declared his intention to only have one, he had a feeling he too would be getting grief about his marital habits. Any other time and he might have gotten angry at the teasing, lashing out at his brother. But both could see the teasing meant something more than that.

Their father and Nizam had traded barbs as children, much in the same way that he and his siblings had. With the news of his Uncle's betrayal and his own strange behavior, he knew that every barb that left Garsiv's lips was his brother's way of checking on him. Of making sure that their relationship had not gotten as mad as the rest of the world. No, Dastan knew emotional displays would never be Garsiv's strong suite but in his own way his brother showed that he did care.

"I don't think any of my wives would take lessons very well," Garsiv said, his tongue filled with distaste at his wive's penchant for embroidery and other feminine things, "but speaking of fools," Garsiv said wiping his hands, "are you sure that wife of yours hasn't gotten wise and left you to the wilds of the desert again?"

Dastan rolled his eyes at his brother, but the sun was rising higher in the sky and it had been a while since he had seen Tamina. Though he was loathe to give his brother any kind of satisfaction, Dastan knew he needed to find her. Ignoring the smirk that crossed Garsiv's face, he turned towards the village. Wiping his hands on his pants, Dastan set off in search of his wife. As he walked through the village, Bis fell seamlessly into step beside him.

"I just received word from Garsiv's men," he said, "they lost the Hassansin's trail."

Dastan stopped, looking at his friend. Bis looked apologetic to be bringing bad news but his eyes shone with seriousness. He knew what was at stake as well as anyone else. The Hassansin's had already attack here, they had proved their target was the Dagger. Their best chance at stopping them was to pursue them when the trail was fresh. But if they had lost the trail then the Hassansins could be anywhere. Dastan cast his eyes about, half expecting them to be in the village. But if they were they had given no sign of it and he knew they had ample opportunity to attack.

"Which direction did they chase them?" he asked.

"Away from Alamut," Bis said, seamlessly giving Dastan what he needed, even if the Prince had not asked.

"Get everything ready," Dastan said, "I'll find Tamina. We ride for Alamut as soon as she is finished with prayers. We need to get back there before the Hassansins have any more chance of getting to us."

Bis nodded and turned to go when Dastan's hand streaked out and grabbed his forearm, preventing him from leaving.

"Be careful Bis," Dastan said.

"A little faith, Dastan," Bis said warmly, clapping Dastan on the shoulder, "I'm not dead yet."

Lightly he took off down the hillside. Dastan watched him go with a smile tugging at his lips. Only Bis would approach the prospect of his death with a lighthearted attitude. Turning back to the path, Dastan quickened his pace as he made his way towards the Temple. Tamina was around there, of that he was sure. He may not have understood her religion but he was more than well acquainted with the Dagger's sacred places. Including the closed off Temple that rested in the heart of the village. Sure enough as he moved past the rocks, he saw the familiar outline of her.

He found Tamina kneeling on the highest rock, her head bowed and hands spread across the stone in prayer. Dastan did not know what she said to her Gods, what words could make the death around them better but it was not for him to know. He did not believe as she did, but the people who lay dead around them all had. He would not show any disrespect to them, even if he did not share their faith. Letting his hands rest by his sides, Dastan was silent as he waited for Tamina, knowing better than to think his presence would rush her in the prayers she offered to her Gods.

It was only when she was finished that Tamina spoke.

"The Gods almost destroyed the world with the Sands," the Princess said, her tone cool and collected, "and the guardians have spent their lives keeping the world safe from them. We give their bodies to the sand so that they may continue to protect us."

Slowly Tamina got to her feet and turned to look at Dastan. His expression was unreadable as he looked at her. She knew he did not share her beliefs, but he did not challenge them either. Dastan held her gaze with his own. Moving the bodies had made their scent clearer and the Guardian Temple was awash with the oder of blood and the beginning's of decomposition. The memory of the dead was clear in her mind. She knew the name of every man, woman and child who had lived in this place and now only five guardians survived, children at that. Their forces were seriously compromised.

"What is it?" Tamina asked.

"Its nothing," Dastan said, "finish your ritual."

Tamina folded her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really think that she did not know when he was hiding something. She continued to look at him, watching as his face took on a distinctly guilty look. Finally his lips parted as he let out a breath, running a hand through his greasy hair.

"My brother's men have lost the Hassansin's trail," Dastan said, "we do not know where they are but its likely they are heading our way. We need to get out of here."

Tamina nodded, understanding.

"We need to leave," she agreed.

"Are you finished?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "these guardians will stay in my prayers and when I am in Alamut I will be able to honor their sacrifice in the way it deserves. But they would not want the Dagger to be in danger. Not when they gave their lives to see it safe."

Dastan nodded. He understood that. In spite of everything he did not get about the religion she belonged to, he could understand her people's need to defend what they believed. He had lost many men to such faith and he was sure he would loose more still. Yet he knew dying for what you believed was one of the better ways to go. Tamina saw the acceptance on his face and they both knew he would have stayed on the mountain and defended her until she finished whatever rituals she had to perform.

"We need to get back to Alamut," she said.

Dastan nodded as the two of them left the hill, making their way down through the deserted village. By the time they reached the base of the hill, Bis had everyone ready to go. Garsiv stood by Aksh, his hand on the stallion's forehead. The horse was quiet under his touch, body relaxed at the practiced hands of his master. When he saw the two of them coming, Garsiv and his precious horse turned towards them at the same time. Before Dastan could make for one of the other horses there, Garsiv walked over to the two of them. His eyes moved between the pair of them before they settled on Dastan. In front of his shocked eyes, Garsiv held out the reins to his precious stallion.

"Understand," Garsiv said, "i am not lending this horse to you. Your riding would make even a boy weep with shame," he turned to Tamina, "I am lending him to you. To make up for the fact that you must suffer the journey back with such a pathetic horseman sitting in front of you."

Dastan made a sound of disgust at his brother. It was true that his riding skills were not up to par with his family. But Dastan had always preferred to fight with his feet on the ground. In general, he liked to have the assurance that his feet would touch solid land. In his experience horses only gave you the promise of a bruised bottom the next day. He had suffered through the lessons that were forced on him but he had only gained the barest competency. He knew his riding would never be as smooth or effortless as Garsiv's.

"Its called walking," Dastan said, bending down to give Tamina boost, "and maybe if you learned to master it, you wouldn't be quite so easy to beat in a fight-"

With only a glance at Dastan's hand, Tamina stuck her foot in the stirrup of the horse and swung herself easily into the saddle. Aksh snorted at the extra weight but the Princess pressed her hand to his neck, her fingertips moving against him. He soon quieted under her touch. Tamina's movements were slow, careful and full of grace as she unhooked her feet from the stirrups and eased herself back to give Dastan room to mount. Turning her body she looked at Garsiv. Both men were staring at her, shocked at what she had done. Resisting the urge to grin, Tamina straightened her spine and let the barest smile grace her lips.

"I only let him ride in front," she explained "so that he may have the practice he so desperately needs."

Garsiv smiled up at her.

"Out of all my sister's in law, you may very well be my favorite," he said.

"I'm honored," Tamina replied without missing a beat.

Garsiv walked back to his horse, obviously amused. Dastan turned around and mounted the horse, though Aksh did not even respond to his weight. Tamina settled herself behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest.

"I'm not that bad," Dastan grumbled.

"Would you like me to lie and say you're right?" Tamina asked.

"Maybe you should focus on staying _on_ the horse this time," he said looking over his shoulder at her.

Tamina pressed her lips together, only letting the barest smile slip through. Dastan felt his own lips curve up in response to the humor in her eyes. The warmth he felt had little to do with the body pressed up against his as he pressed his heels into the sides of his brother's prized horse. Slowly Aksh moved away from the village and the Temple and the death behind them. Wind had already shifted the sands so that it was impossible to tell where the bodies were buried. The other guardians had gone back to the sands where they came from.

Her hands tightened in the folds of Dastan's shirt as she looked back at the guardians who lay outside the Temple. There was no dishonor in their death, they had given their lives in service of what they believed. Staying there would only put the Dagger in danger, she knew that, and yet the idea of leaving them with such a short set of prayers was one that sent a chill through her. She knew they would want her to keep the Dagger safe, just as she knew hiding it in the Guardian Temple was no longer the place to do that.

A warm, calloused hand pressed against her own. Tamina looked forward but Dastan's eyes were on the horizon. Still she did not need him to look back at her to know the comfort that he offered her. He was a battle hardened solider, he had lost people before and yet he still found it in himself to offer comfort to her. Leaning forward, Tamina tightened her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. No-one spoke as they rode, all occupied with searching for any sign that the Hassansins had picked up on their trail and were in pursuit. They had to reach Alamut, once they got there they could figure out what to do next. But even Tamina did not like the odds of a fight in the middle of the desert.

The hairs on the back of Dastan's neck stood up. His fingers tightened against Aksh's reins. He could feel something, something about to happen. He had long since learned that ignoring his sense of danger was asking for nothing but trouble. Pressing his heels into the horse, Dastan forced him to stay at a steady pace even as the gut feeling he had grew worse. One of his hands moved from the reins to reached his chest, his hand laying flat against Tamina's. He felt her stiffen, her gaze turning towards him. Dastan did not look back at her, the hand touch was enough. His voice was almost inaudible when he spoke to her.

"Get ready," he said softly.

Tamina nodded, though she did not know what he was speaking of. Get ready for what? But Dastan's instincts had been true before, she knew doubting them now would be nothing but trouble. Her bandaged hand left his chest, dropping down to her side. To anyone's gaze she seemed to be scratching an itch but her bandaged fingers brushed the contours of the Dagger, making sure it was secure by her side. Her hand slowly left it, returning to Dastan's waist and touching the back of his hand as Dastan tightened his legs around Aksh's saddle.

Without warning the Hassansin burst from the sand at Aksh's hooves.

Aksh reared, kicking at the air as the Hassansin swung at him. Dastan twisted around in the saddle, his arms locking around Tamina as they both dropped to the sands below. His brother's prized horse evaded the attack, bringing his hooves down on the Hassansin. The man rolled to the side, removing his outer cloak and turning around to face them, only to be cut down by Dastan's blade. Wasting no time the Prince raced forward, grabbing the sword and turning around. Other Hassansins had revealed themselves, springing from their hiding places, their black cloaks stained with sand. Dastan turned to Tamina before he looked up and over at the men gathered there.

"Seso!" he shouted to the knife thrower. The Ngbaka looked at the pair of them, "get to Seso."

She looked at him, her eyes wide and Dastan knew she wondered why _he_ was not the one protecting her. If they were together it would be easy for the Hassansin's to get the Dagger and kill a Prince of Persia, both of which were necessary to his Uncle's plan. He couldn't let that happen. Seso would be able to keep Tamina safe while Dastan fought the Hassansins. Tamina opened her mouth to protest but Dastan shook his head, his eyes moving around at the other Hassansins who were engaging the men in the fight. Tamina saw the battle too, she knew what she had to do just as he knew his duty.

"Be careful," Tamina said.

"I hope you're not talking to me," Dastan said with an offhanded grin.

Tamina looked at him for a moment longer, looking as though she was about to say something before she turned and bolted for Seso. Darts whistled through the air at her movement but she was quick. Immediately knives began to fly from Seso's fingers, moving in the direction of the darts, covering the Princess's quick journey. A shadow moved out of the corner of his eye but Dastan waited until she was with the Ngbaka to turn and face his opponent. Swords drawn he spun around and felt his blood run cold.

He knew he could have gone blind and he would still recognize the bright, fevered gaze of Hassansin in front of him.

The man stood low on the sands, his body perfectly angled to work with the two curved knives in his hands. Dastan stared at the Hassansin's blue eyes, trying to see out of his peripheral vision if any snakes had left him. But if they had they were already in the sand. The Hassansin looked at him, his gaze as dead as it had been the last time Dastan saw him. He recognized the mangled skin of the Hassansin's face and the way his eyes seemed to burn from the kohl surrounding them. Dastan forced the fear in his stomach aside. Fear had no place in battle, not in the fight he faced with the deadliest of the Hassansins. The Hassansin seemed to know what was going on in Dastan's head. The barest, deadliest smile graced his lips.

Knife still in hand the Hassansin moved.

But he did not attack Dastan. His hand moved upwards, towards his own chest. Before Dastan's shocked gaze the Hassansin rested his hand on the spot where Tamina had run him through before Dastan pushed him off into oblivion. Dastan's eyes widened, his grip on the sword growing painfully tight as the Hassansin drank in his look, the smile remanning on his lips as they parted. Dastan knew before he spoke that the Hassansin was aware of what had transpired between the two of them. Like the snakes he wielded, the Hassansin's tongue darted out, tasting the dryness of his lips before he spoke.

"It does hurt as much as you think," he promised Dastan.

Suddenly the word burned white with pain. Dastan swore, blidened by the low handed move as the Hassansin kicked sand into his eyes. The din of battle was terrifying when blinded but Dastan forced it aside. He wiped his eyes, trying to get them clean. They would sting for a long time, of that he was sure but all he needed was to be able to see. When he managed to clear his eyes there was no-one there.

The Hassansin leader was gone.

Dastan stared, blinking against the sand that still stained his face and burned his eyes. Something moved out of the corner of his eye. Dastan jumped back, at first thinking he was a fool afraid of his own shadow before realizing that the shadow he had seen was that of a whip. He only just managed to duck as the black weapon with its bright steel blades made a pass that nearly took his head with it. There was no time to think as he looked at the shadows in front of him, listening for the whistle of leather cutting through the air. Dastan turned and straightened in one smooth motion, fighting back the dread he felt at facing the Hassansin once more.

The Hassansin who looked at him held two long whips that Dastan recognized far more easily than the man who weilded them. Ice seemed to burn its way down his spine as he looked at the man's features. The Hassansin looked at him, expression full of twisted pleasure at the thought of Dastan's death. The Hassansin moved forward, his whips expertly coiled around his hands. Dastan gave each of his blades a turn in the air, the steel whistling plesantly by his ear. Famed Hassansin or no, Dastan knew that he would kill the man who leered at him. He saw the Hassansin shift his weight. Dastan kicked off the ground and the fight began in earnest.

The Hassansin weilded his whips as though they were an extension of his arms. But if there was one thing Dastan could do, it was be light and quick. The bladed tips of the whips missed him by the barest of margins, but a miss was a miss and each time he avoided the blades he saw as a victory. If his skill infuriated the Hassansin it did not show on the man's face, nor in his movements which remained precise and deadly. Most enemies would react angrily to defeat, their movements full of slopiness. Those opening were usually the deciding factor in a fight. But the Hassansin gave Dastan no such openings. One of the whips passed in front of Dastan's face, the other slicing towards his stomach. Dastan dodged the first and the second, only to realize the first pass had been nothing more than a fient as the whip arced back towards him.

Fire burned across his skin, his hand opening reflexively as one of his blades fell to the sand.

Dastan threw himself to the side, rolling away from the next attack the Hassansin threw his way. He could feel the warm blood sliding down his arm but the cut itself was little more than an annoyance. Dastan swore. Shallow cuts may have stung but deep ones usually meant worse things. He did not dare to look away from his enemy. One handed in a fight against a Hassansin who weilded two deadly whips. Even he did not like those odds. He avoided three more passes of the whip by jumping, sumersaulting and sliding across the sand at his feet. The blows kept coming. Dastan knew that there were more fights beyond this one. He could not afford to spend all his energy in this battle. It had to end quickly. Dastan's eyes darted between the two whips as he dodged, his eyes trying to asses which of them would be the less painful.

Knowing there was no time to waste, Dastan quickly made his choice. At the next pass of the whips, without warning Dastan threw out his wounded arm. He caught the whip around his arm. It lashed around his forearm, the blades on the end biting deep into his flesh. Dastan yanked his arm back, throwing the Hassansin off balace. Before the man could recover, Dastan lunged foward, putting himself too close for the man's other whip to be of any use. Half blind with the sun and the sand and the pain, Dastan thrust his blade forward. Past the Hassansin's defense, past the whip, all the way for the narrow give he saw in the black breastplate the demonic warrior wore.

The blade hit home.

The Hassansin's eyes widend, as though he could not quite believe what had happened. Dastan gripped the blade tighter, twisting it inside the body of the man. Blood spilled from the Hassansin's lips, staining his skin before falling against the fabric of his robes. Even with the fight raging around them, Dasta stopped to watch the light dissipate from the man's fevered eyes. This was one of the men who had killed Garsiv, his hand had been in the death of everyone that Dastan had ever loved. Surprise seemed to cross the man's features for a moment as though he too saw there was something more to this than met the eye. With a final yank, Dastan tore his sword free of the man's stomach, dragging the razor sharp blade through the Hassansin's innards. He was not dead before he hit the ground but Dastan knew that he soon would be. He wished the Hassansin nothing more than a slow, agonzing death as he raised the sword over his head and brough it down on the man's throat, severing it. Straighenting up, Dastan cast the whip aside and turned to face his next enemy.

He froze.

His eyes took in the battle with a sickening feeling. The Hassansin's had started out being so outnumbered but now the tide had changed. Seso was on the ground, three darts in his shoulder but still working against the Hassansin. Tamina was beside him. her back pressed against Bis's as the other man fought to keep the Hassansin back. The others were on the ground as well, darts sticking haphazardly out of them. All except for Garsiv. He dueled the black robed, blue eyed man with all the prowess and skill of a man who lived for battle. But his focus was single minded. He thought nothing for his owns safety, his every thought occupied by defeating the enemy at hand. Dastan did not need to look to know what would happen. He was already sure. He knew and in his heart, he knew what he had to do. He did not look, he did not heasitate, he simply moved.

In the back of his head Dastan wondered if this had been the Dagger's plan all along. If his turn through time had simply delayed a course of events that was destined to occur. It was undeniable that their journey so far had mirrored the one they had taken before. Alamut to the Valley to the Secret Guardian Temple and now back towards Alamut, all on Aksh's back. But even though some events had changed, Dastan could see the thread of the past repeating itself. Destiny may have had a plan for them but as he raced towards his brother Dastan took comfort in the fact that in some small way they had altered the plan. And if he gave his life to see his family safe, then he could not think of a better way to go. He dug his heels into the sand at the same time the Hassansin's darts found their mark. There was no time to push Garsiv out of the way, no time to come up with any sort of plan.

There was only enough time to put himself in front of his brother.

And let the six darts enter his body instead.

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**Oh SNAP!**

**What's gonna happen? We all know Dastan loves his bro and he doesn't want him to die. But can they save him?Find out soon! Oh and next time I PROMISE Seso's gonna speak. After all, he's a knife thrower. He's gotta have a few tricks up his sleeve when it comes to that. So get ready!**

**Okay its time to click that review button and share your thoughts! I'm loving this system where you review and I update and we make each other happy! You complete me! So keep reviewing, I'll keep updating and we will all continue to be awesome!**

**So please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**And we're back! **

**I know its kinda early for an update but today's not gonna be a double update day. Or I really REALLY doubt it is. I'm kinda tired and I wanna make sure you get a good story!  
**

**Onto the business at hand. Kick ass in the review dept. as always. You all were utterly fabulous and I thank you for it! Thank you also for not joining in the drama of a select few. You guys have been stellar and you make me wish I could spend all my time writing!**

**Now back to the story!**

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Garsiv heard the man behind him fall.

He did not look at the man, knowing that he had just saved his life, probably at the cost of his own. Ducking under the Hassansin's next strike, Garsiv spun around, his hand easily finding the blade at his spine. Using the force of his turn he threw his hand out. The blade left his fingers, sailing through the air. The man who had thrown the knives threw his hands in front of his chest to block the blow but even he could not stop a sword. The blade slammed into his chest, easily breaking his bones and piercing his breastplate. Garsiv turned around to block his own attacker's next strike, not even needing to watch as the man fell backwards. He would be dead before he hit the sand.

The Hassansin bore down on him, forcing the Prince to his knees. As he struggled against the surprising weight of the man, Garsiv looked down at the sand. The person who had given their life for him had to have a weapon. Had to have something, anything that would give him the edge in the fight. It was one of the fundemnetal rules of battle. You used what you had. If he had to take a dead man's weapon then so be it. The man would not have died in vain. His eyes moved to the person, searching for weapons before he sacrificed his grip on the blades. He could not afford to give the Hassansin any more of an opening. His eyes swept the darts embedded in the man's shirt, darts that were meant for him before taking in the blade that rested by his hand. His eyes did not recognize the clothing or the weapons but the sight of a curved sword made his blood run cold. Matted brown hair hid the man's face but Garsiv knew he would recognze that hair anywhere.

It was Dastan.

For one terrifying moment emotion took Garsiv over. Panic clogged his throat, fear making it impossible to do anything but stare at him. Every time they had ridden into battle together Garsiv had known that there was a chance one of them would fall. Even in the midst of battle he always made it a habit to glance up at the tops of walls, knowing that without fail Dastan would appear. Then he would chide himself for being so pathetic as to need to be reassured his brother was alright. Tus knew of his habit and would always gently tease Garsiv about what a mother hen Dastan had made him into, to which Garsiv would alway retort that if he had become a mother hen-which he had not-Tus was well on his way to being a woman. Dastan did not know about his habit, or if he did he knew better than to say anything about it. There were some things they teased each other about and some thing they did not. And expressions of brotherly affection were squarely in that category.

But the sight of Dastan laying there, of Garsiv knowing that his brother had just saved his life at the cost of his own, it was maddening for the Prince. Tus had a way with words but Garsiv had always been the more physical of them. He fought the way men were supposed to fight. He was the one who had taught Dastan the sword and tried to teach him how to ride a horse. He was the one who beat every child of the nobles who made Dastan feel inferior. And even though he had been the one to ask why their father had brought Dastan back, he was also the one who had roped Tus into waking Dastan with a feather, insisting that teasing him would make him feel more at home than the odd kindness their father seemed to continously insist on. Now he was laying there, barely a breath away, dead because he refused to see Garsiv killed once more.

With a yell Garsiv dropped the swords and slammed his fist into the Hassansin's stomach.

The move was quick and low browed but Garsiv was past caring. The air fled the Hassansin's lungs as Garsiv drove his fist into the same spot, not caring about the long, shallow cut that had been left by the blades falling away. His fists struck the Hassansin, his blows sharp and precise. The Hassansin was not expecting that and even though the Hassansin's eyes were wide with the blow to his stomach, they widened further when Garsiv continued to hit him. They both knew a quick strike from a blade would end the Hassansin's life, just as they both knew Garsiv wanted him to suffer. He did not want a quick death and though the blows he struck were poor comfort, they were all he had. When the Hassansin went for one of the swords, Garsiv kicked it away, striking the Hassansin in the cheek with his toe. The man fell to the ground as Garsiv grabbed the last of the swords within an arm's reach and dropped to his knee, slamming the joint into the Hassansin's unprotected groin before pressing the edge of the sword to the man's throat.

"Wait!"

Garsiv turned as Bis came running forward, crouching beside the Prince. His hands were stained with blood and even with his heart pounding in his ears Garsiv was aware of the silence of the battlefield. They had killed the other Hassansins but it was too late. Dastan was already gone. Garsiv glared at the Hassansin his fingers tightening on the sword. He did not want to wait. Or to listen to reason. He wanted to watch the man who had taken Dastan from them die. Death by the sword was a better one than the man deserved. But Bis drew Garsiv's gaze to his own and before Garsiv could look away he began to speak.

"Others have been hit by the darts, you included. They might be poisoned," Bis said, his tone low and soft as thought to soothe the Prince, "we got the others. Let this man stand trial for his crimes."

"He killed Dastan!" Garsiv shouted through his clenched teeth, not caring that he too had been hit.

"Killing him isn't going to bring Dastan back!" Bis said, "and it may very well save the lives of everyone else here."

Garsiv looked at him and for a moment Bis was sure he was going to say 'no' and cleave the man's head. But finally the Prince gave a curt nod, pulling back. Without warning, Garsiv turned around and slammed the pommel of his sword into the Hassansin's head, knocking the man out cold. The Prince got to his feet. Quickly Bis hauled the limp, bloody Hassansin to his ownand locked his hands behind his back as Garsiv turned around. The Prince's steps were fast as he closed the distance between himself and his brother. Though he was fast getting there, when Dastan was at his feet it was suddenly impossible to stand. Garsiv dropped to his knees next to his younger brother's prone form. All the worries he had had about one day facing the sight in front of him could not have prepared him for the reality of it.

"Dastan," he spoke his brother's name, half hoping that Dastan would roll onto his back and laugh about the expression on his face.

But Dastan lay there limply. Garsiv's hands trembled as he laid a hand on Dastan's shoulder. He could not turn him onto his back, not without pushing the darts in deeper. Keeping a hand on Dastan's shoulder and laying another on his hip, he pulled his brother onto his side. Even though he was gentle, a strangled yell escaped Dastan's lips before his brother clenched his jaw. Relief surged through Garsiv. He was alive. Holding him steady, Garsiv swept his eyes over Dastan's form. The darts had entered his shoulder blade, his arm and the upper part of his chest, just before his collar bone. His arm hung limply by his side, two more darts sicking out of it. The wounds were agonizing but they were not deadly. Dastan had known where they were aiming and though he blocked them, he hand mangaed to turn so that neither of them had to die.

"Thank God," Garsiv breathed, "he's alive!" he shouted to Bis, listening to the man's excited whoop before looking down at Dastan.

All the relief he felt vanished at the sight of his brother's features. He was pale, sheened with sweat, his face tight with agony. As he held him Garsiv could feel his brother's body shaking. They had taken hits before and though these were bad, Garsiv had seen Dastan take out an army with one arm hanging limply by his side. Which could only mean that something else was wrong. Tearing his eyes away from his brother, Garsiv looked at his own shoulder. A dart was sticking out of it as well. The feeling of adrenaline was coursing through him but he knew that Bis had been right, the darts were poisoned. He was no good to Dastan dead or ill. He had to get the thing out of him. Bracing his hand against Dastan's shoulder, Garsiv reached up and yanked the thing out of his own, throwing it aside. He steadied Dastan with his hands, holding him as another wave of agony passed his brothers face. His lips parted. Garsiv leaned down, listening.

"Didn't know-" Dastan spoke through clenched teeth, "poisoned-"

"I know," Garsiv said, raising his eyes as a shadow fell over him.

As she looked down at her husband, Tamina wondered if she had not killed herself in the Temple. Surely she had, for she felt as if she was looking at Dastan from some great distance. She had seen him run to his brother out of the corner of her eye but the fighting had been so chaotic and her faith in him so absolute that she had not thought to look at him. Not until she heard Garsiv shout. She had watched him fight the Hassansin, telling herself that it had just been anger that made him shout, not anything else. But she had not seen Dastan when she finally looked away from his brother. She had told herself that he was simply crouching, waiting for the moment to attack and save them all. She had lied to herself even as ice filled her veins and her eyes came to rest on the body laying between Garsiv and herself.

She had been paralyzed as she recognized everything from the swords to the cloths and finally the mop of brown hair hiding his face. The chaos of battle had kept her standing with her back to Bis's. Only when he took off running did she find it in herself to move. And even then he had seemed impossibly far away. With each step she felt more and more like she was out of her body. Like she had died and gone down to the underworld, condemned to see such terrible things for all of eternity. It was impossible that Dastan was there, laying so limp against the sands with darts sticking out of him. She had told him they commited the bodies of the guardians to the sands, so that they could continue to protect the people they had served in life, but the sight of him laying there made her wish that they performed a different ritual for their dead.

"This Dagger of yours. Can you go back and save him?" Garsiv questioned, his voice wildly hopeful.

Tamina looked up at her brother in law. Garsiv looked at her anxiously and Tamina wanted to weep for his foolishness. She looked down at Dastan's barely alive form. Even if the Dagger did have Sand in it, more than a minute had passed. She had not worn the vial of sand to her wedding night, it was back in Alamut under the protection of the guardians there. The only way to go back far enough was to unleash the Sands themselves. And Tamina knew she could not do that. Not even as her heart ached at the harsh breath that escaped Dastan's lips, his body tensing with pain.

"No," Tamina said, her voice soft, "he poured the Sand out. The Dagger does not work without it," her fingers tightened on the fabric of her shirt, "and even if there was Sand, the Dagger only goes back for a short period of time. Its too late to use it to save him," she looked despearately from one brother to another, "its too late-" she continued, knowing her voice was edged in hysteria.

"Tamina, _Tamina_," Bis appeared next to her, dragging the tied up and decidedly unconscious Hassansin with him. He cut her words off, forcing her eyes to him before Garsiv could speak, "you're no good to Dastan like this," he said, his eyes softening, "its not too late. Do what Garsiv says."

Tamina looked down at Garsiv. Worry and anger churned in his gaze and she knew if he thought there was a chance that he could get the Dagger to do what he wanted, he would have gotten it from her somehow. But he too seemed to know that the Dagger would be of no help to them. Not here, not now. The older Prince looked down at his brother before looking up at Tamina. When his eyes found hers, the concerned older brother was gone, replaced by a battle commander whose choices decided the lives of thousands. He looked at her calmly and, in spite of her earlier hysteria, Tamina found herself calming down. If he could be so impossible serene, then so could she. She knelt down in front of him, looking at him.

"Put your hands here," Garsiv ordered, nodding to his own.

Tamina quickly followed him, placing her hands on Dastan's too hot skin. She winced when a harsh sound escaped his lips before his jaw tightened, as if even the barest movement was agony for him. He had known the darts would be for Garsiv, had he known they were poisoned? Tamina looked down at him, feeling utterly helpless at the sight of him in so much pain. He was a hardened warrior, a great fighter. She knew he had taken hits before, suffered injuries as well, but the darts that stuck out of him were past even the scope of his control. Six of them, Tamina knew if it had been her she would have screamed unitl her voice broke. Every line of Dastan's body spoke of agony, every sharp breath that escaped his clenched teeth and yet there was _nothing_ that she could do to help him. His words about protecting her, about her not choosing to die for the Dagger all seemed especially bitter as she looked at him now.

Now that he would give his life to save someone he loved.

The deaths of the people he cared so much about had weighed heavily on him. She had seen it that month of their engagement, listening as the nightmares tore at him. As he watched them die over and over again. There was no Dagger to turn back time now, no promise of a second chance or a time where what was going on right now would not happen. She could not do that, not for a second time and risk the world. Though as she pressed her fingers into his fevered skin she knew that if she would do it for anyone, it would be for him. But that was not a choice, not now. He had told her he would not ask her to choose him over the world, but as she looked at him Tamina realized that there was a chance she would. What she had thought was a ludicrious idea was suddenly seeming more and more sensible. If it had worked once, who was to say that turning back time again would not save more lives?

But even as she thought the blasphemous words, she knew that they would not come to pass. She could _not_ do that. Not for him, not for anyone. He did not know better, she did. All that she could do was pray he would stay alive long enough for them to get him back to Alamut where the guardians who were healers could work with the Persian ones to save his life. Tamina had to believe that no matter what had happened to him, he was strong enough to stay alive. She looked down at his features, seeing his eyes tightly closed as the agony filled him. Gods, he was in so much pain. It made her heart ache. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to find a way to help him.

She looked up as Seso knelt down before her. Tamina felt surprised that she had not at least seen him coming. The Ngbaka was silent as the grave and she realized that he had approached so that even his shadow would not give him away. His outer robe was gone and she could see bandages on his chest. The three darts that had embedded themselves in his shoulder were gone and she could see the patchwork cotton around his shoulder serving as a bandage. Silently the Ngbaka knelt down in front of Dastan, his eyes moving across the wounds in an assessement of the damage. The Ngbaka gave a quick nod before turning to his cloak. Pulling out one his own blades, he began to cut the fabric into strips.

"What are you doing?" Garsiv demanded.

"You cannot move him like this," Seso said, his fingers rolling the cotton into long rolls, "you will drive the darts in deeper."

"You removed your darts," Garsiv pointed out.

"Not all of mine were not poisoned," Seso said, "my wounds are different. You cannot move him like this and your bandages will only drive the darts deeper."

"But-"

"No," Seso cut him off, his voice calm but making it clear he did not want to be interupted again, "in my village, the first thing we learn as children is you have to keep the wound clean, dry and still. But you still have to get back to the village," he wrapped his fingers with the cotton roll and moved his hands over Dastan.

"But the poison," Bis began.

"If you take them out he will bleed to death before you get back to Alamut," Seso said.

Garsiv looked at him, Seso met his eyes, his hands extended towards Dastan. Looking up at him, Tamina wanted to shout at him to listen to the Ngbaka's advice, but before she could Garsiv gave a curt nod. Quickly the Ngbaka turned back to Dastan. Tamina's fingers tightened against his skin as the warrior moved. With sharp, efficient movements he began to thread the rolled cloth through the darts. Dastan tensed, his jaw locking as he fought not to scream at the touch. Tamina bit her lip viciously, pressing her hands against Dastan's skin and wishing that some of her strength would go into him. Seso worked quickly. What must have been endless agony to Dastan was mere minutes to the rest of them. When he withdrew his hand, each dart embedded in Dastan's skin was stabalized by the brightly colored cotton.

"You can move him now," Seso said, "but be steady and quick," he continued, not stating what they all knew.

Garsiv nodded and grabbed Aksh's reins. He swung himself easily into the saddle and turned to them.

"We ride for Alamut, Dastan is with me," he turned and looked at the Hassansin, "tie him to a horse, you," he looked at Seso, "guard him. If he tries to run, cut him down. But we need him alive, for Dastan's sake."

Seso nodded his understanding. Garsiv turned as two men quickly came forward to move Dastan. They looked at her. Belatedly Tamina realized that they were waiting for her to move her hands. Letting go of him was almost impossible but she forced her hands to leave him. The two men slid their hands under the Prince. When they stood the only thing that escaped Dastan's throat was a short, agonizing groan, as if even screams were beyond him now. Tamina squeezed her eyes shut at the sound, unable to stand the sight of him in so much pain before forcing her eyes open. She would not act like a coward when Dastan had shown nothing but bravery.

The moment the men got Dastan up on the horse in front of his brother, Garsiv kicked Aksh into motion, taking off at as fast a pace as he could without jostling his brother. Tamina watched them ride, still feeling helpless and dazed. Tearing her eyes away, she looked around for a horse only to realize with dismay that most had been killed in the fight. The other men were riding off after the two Prince's, the Hassansin strapped to the back of the man who rode behind Seso. A horse pulled to a rough stop in front of her, Bis sitting astride it. The young man held out his hand to her.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me," he said in a dramatic, apologetic fashion.

Tamina greatfully slid her hand into his and let him pull her up behind him on the horse. Bis kicked the horse into life. It took off after the other riders. As they rode Bis proved that for all his dramatic apologies, he was a halfway decent horseman. As they got closer, Tamina could clearly see Dastan's limp form braced against his brother's chest. From the way his head lolled, Tamina realized that the Prince had lost consciousness. For one sickening moment she thought he was dead, but from the look on Garsiv's face she knew that was not the case. He had just gotten worse. Tamina's fingers tightened against Bis's shirt, horror flooding her and to her great shame she felt tears threaten her once again.

"Don't worry, Your Highness," Bis said, glancing over his shoulder at her, "Dastan's been coming out from situations like this his whole life."

Tamina looked at him, shocked by how easy his tone was. Bis flashed her a grin before moving the horse quicker to keep up with the rest of them.

"I told him the moment he said he was going to marry you that only _he_ could get away with marrying the Princess of a city he conquered. And now I see you've got a magical Dagger to boot," he shook his head, amused, "I don't know what Dastan did to get in the good graces of so many Gods but I, for one, will strive to follow in his footsteps."

The smile that tugged at her was surprising. Even in all the misery Bis still managed to bring some kind of humor. The young man twisted in the saddle to look at her, flashing an even wider grin at her small, miserable smile. Throughout the ride back, he continued to speak, not letting Tamina fall into her thoughts. He told her about meeting Dastan when he was a little dirty street rat. How street rats and friendships never went well together. You were friend with whoever you saw that day. He told her how shocked he had been when Dastan showed up at his door a few days later. How even though he wore dirty clothing he was cleaner than Bis had ever seen a boy be. He confided to Tamina how he had wanted to tell Dastan to leave, that adopted or no, sons of Kings were not friends with the sons of widows. But Dastan had looked so crestfallen at the almost rejection that Bis hadn't been able to turn him away.

Tamina listened to the stories of Dastan's childhood, trying to focus on Bis's tales rather than the horrifying image of Dastan leaning against his brother. Bis told her how trouble seemed to follow Dastan as much as luck did. How when he became part of the King's family suddenly Garsiv and Tus transformed from the sons of Princes into normal boys. Bis told her how by the time he got to the palace Dastan had already transformed his brothers and when they met for the first time Bis just felt like he was meeting two older boys rather than his future monarch and his future monarch's head advisor. As she listened to the way that Dastan managed to get into trouble as easily as he got himself out of it, Tamina felt the knot in her chest ease slightly.

"He'll be alright," she said softly, without realizing she said it aloud.

"'Course he will," Bis said, "Alamut's got great healers. And the Hassansins used to work for the King remember, he's got to have something to work against their poison."

Tamina nodded, but one look at Dastan sent her stomach plummeting all over again. He was so pale and even though he was not consicous she could see the lines of agony on his face. His entire body was tense too, as if the poison had somehow made his muscles lock. She couldn't help him. Not with the power of the Dagger. Everything now depended on them getting back to Alamut before the poison did its terrible work. She knew Seso understood what he was doing but the sight of the darts still sticking out of Dastan's skin made her feel even worse. As though he sense her distress, Bis quickly began to speak again, telling her more stories of their childhood.

They rode for hours, until the sun had passed its hightest point. The sky was already beginning to darken with the rubies and oranges of nightfallwhen Tamina saw the dark spot on the horizon. It was Alamut. They were close. Her heart leapt into her throat. The others saw it too, they had to have. Their pace quickened as they made for the gates. Dastan was alive, the healers were close. If they could just get there, everything would be alright. It _had_ to be alright. By the time they were close enough to see the stones of the gates, the sun had already began to set and the chill of night was rolling across the desert. But no-one gave it any mind.

As they rode to the gates, Garsiv realized that men must have seen them coming. The gates opened for a handful of riders. They galloped towards them, Tus at their head. Garsiv let out a shaky breath, relief filling him. Tus was there. He could see for himself the state that Dastan was in. He saw something was amiss, his horse leapt forward, leaving the other riders in the dust as he pushed towards them. Garsiv kept Aksh's smooth pace, his hand pressing into the horses neck. If Aksh reared now they were both as good as done for. When he was close, Tus reigned in his horse, pulling him next to Aksh.

"My God," he breathed looking at the pair of them, "what happened."

"Hassansins," Garsiv said tightly.

Tus nodded before turning his horse and racing back to the other riders. Garsiv did not hear what he said to them, his focus entirely on his brother and staying on the horse. His head was swimming. He felt feverish and sick, the poison working through his system. And he had recieved a low dose at that. What would a large one do to a man? Fighting not to think about that, Garsiv tightened his hands on the reins as Tus came back to them, pulling his horse easily alongside Garsiv. Although it made his entire body ache, Garsiv turned his head to look at Tus. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one man break off from the others and race back towards Alamut's main gate, shouting something as he galloped. High above he could see the few men on the top take off running towards another gate.

"We enter through the east gate. There's a path to the palace. Most of the city is on the main streets celebrating. If we take this path few people should see us."

"And the poison?" Garsiv got out through gritted teeth.

"The Hassansins used to be with us," Tus said, "our healers will be able to help Dastan. Do you want me to take him?"

Garsiv shook his head, tightening his grip on their brother. He would be dead before he let Dastan go. Tus seemed to understand. In spite of how terrible Garsiv looked, he did not press the issue. But he did not depart either. He rode alongside Garsiv and Dastan, guiding them up the winding streets towards the palace of Alamut. Garsiv did not speak to his brother's protectiveness, focusing on getting Dastan there safetly. The short ride to the palace was the longest he had ever suffered through. The sound of the horses hooves on the new stone that lined the back of the palace's entranceway was the most beautiful sound to Garsiv's ears. They were there, they were safe, he had done his duty and gotten Dastan back to the palace. Relief filled him as the horses hooves clicked against the stone. Yes it was a beautiful sound.

It was also the last one he heard before his eyes rolled up and the world went blissfully black.

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**AND we are back in Alamut! **

**Next time we have more Tamina, more talking from Seso (i wanted to ease you into it) and a very protective Tus showing a crazy Hassansin leader just whose boss. I'm gonna have the King in there too somewhere but I didn't really like him that much. Oh and don't worry, Sheik Amar's gonna come back because I did like him. And we all know he's got a soft spot for his Ngbaka friend and Prince's who can't seal the deal, so to speak. **

**Now its time for you to do your part in our Mutually Beneficial Relationship! Click the button and share your thoughts! Remember that my breakneck updating pace is helped by your awesome reviews! Really you guys have been so super, please keep it up so we can all be super together!  
**

**So please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**v****Okay I totally love all the song suggestions! "I remain" keeps coming up and I'll tell you right now I LOVE that song for them! But I didn't totally love the PoP soundtrack, so I usually listen to the Children of Dune one. Anyway you may or may not know this but I am a total Gleek and during the finale I just about screamed at my TV when Glee did Queen AND Journey. But anyway I was listening to Journey's "Faithfully" and I'll tell you, I saw a ton of D/T in it. Especially the lines about strangers falling n love again and joys of rediscovering. Anyway its also a great song for them.**

**In poll land, the results are in and "Smutty Wedding Night" wins followed closely by "God, just do it". Then "no delays" followed by "original oneshot" and lastly "no thanks my virgin eyes are good". So here's what we're gonna do. Smutty Wedding Night gets its own oneshot, maybe on deviantart because I don't want to get in trouble. And there maybe one or two other cut scenes where you want an M version so those'll go there too. AND I'll have an original smut or two in there as well.**

**Now here's the new one chapter!**

**Great with the reviews as always. I'm glad so many of you take delight in seeing characters hurt because I know I do. Now its time for some brotherly lovin with the two elder bros and Bis! BTW did anyone else know that Bis is the hot dude from "The Lovely Bones"? Dude needs to loose his beard FAST.**

**Now back to the story!**

* * *

Bis had not strictly been honest when he spoke to Tamina on their ride back.

He had claimed that he was not impressed when he met Dastan's brothers. But that had been a lie. He had not been impressed by Garsiv, with the humorous glint in his eyes and the bruise on his cheek still fresh from his latest squabble. He had not been impressed by King Sharam with his kind smile and easy greeting. Nor by Nizam who had looked at him like a person rather than an almost street rat. And he had seen Dastan in all his finery before. That wasn't impressive either, though it gave him more fodder for their next meeting. Even the gold halls were not impressive, it seemed like they were more out of a dream than something that was actually real. No, upon meeting the majority of Dastan's adopted family, Bis had not been impressed.

Until he saw Tus.

Tus was unlike any man Bis had ever set eyes on. On one hand he seemed impossibly young, his face clean and unbruised. The robes he wore were as exquisite as the Kings, but he wore them with a hint of discomfort in his expression. As if he was embarrassed to be seen in such finery. On the other hand when Bis looked at him he was certain that someone had taken an old man and put him in the body of a young one. There was nothing young about Tus's gaze. He understood who he was, what was expected of him and, most importantly he knew that his entire life until his father's death would be defined by what he would one day become. Tus was the future King and when you entered a room all you had to do was look to know it. Tus commanded respect without even trying and though he had never asked to be treated differently from his decidedly more immature brothers, Bis was sometimes hard pressed not to do just that.

But now as he stood in the presence of the future ruler of Persia, all the nobility he wore so seamlessly was overshadowed by the worry written on his features.

It was an honor, Bis knew, that he saw the future King's emotions so plainly. That Tus felt able to reveal his true feelings around him. But he felt no honor standing there, only the same gut wrenching sickness that he was sure Tus shared. it was impossible to feel anything else, knowing that Garsiv and Dastan were mere rooms away, fighting for their lives. Seso was as well. The Ngbaka had barely made it two steps off the horse after men came and secured the Hassansin before collapsing in a heap on the ground. It seemed that fulfilling their duty was something Garsiv and Seso shared. The three men had been taken into the palace quickly and quietly, so as not to alarm the people, while the Hassansin had been dragged off by guardians and Persian guards, already trying to decide who would be the first to torture the man.

It had fallen to Bis to get Tamina into the palace.

The first woman who saw them had shrieked and dropped the tray she was holding, apparently appalled at the sight of Tamina's current state. Bis had known she did not look like a Princess but it was not as if such things mattered on the road or in a fight. But framed in the gilt and glamour of the palace, it had been all too clear just how un-royal Tamina looked. Dressed in stained and torn men's clothing, whatever part of her was not bandaged was covered in blood and sand and dirt. Her hair was in disarray, falling in haphazard waves over her shoulders. Two women had rushed out at the shriek of the first, taking one look at the Princess and quickly moving forward. Tamina's hand had numbly slipped from his own as the two men led her out of sight.

A man had come and led him to a small room with a wash bin and a change of cloths. Bis had scrubbed as fast as he could, throwing on the clean clothing. Garsiv, Dastan and Seso were in a bad state and even if he did not know Tamina terribly well, even a greater fool than he could see she was not going to be able to relate the events to Tus. As he scoured his skin, Bis cursed the fact that it would fall to _him_ to tell Tus what had happened to his brother. Things between Tus and Garsiv were strained as it was. Nizam and Sharam had always told the two brothers that they reminded them of themselves as children. Though Garsiv had loudly said he would never be that bald while Tus had just smiled, Bis knew he was secretly thrilled at the sound of them becoming like their father and uncle. But what had started as something that could be great now was little more than a cloud over their heads. People glanced at Garsiv out of the corner of their eyes, whispering if the Prince would truly one day follow in his uncle's footsteps. The whispers made Bis sick but Garsiv shut down any questions about them.

Now as he stood in the middle of the room in front of Tus, Bis knew he'd cut his own arm off if it meant one of Tus's brother's could stand in his place. But none of that was possible. Not now. he was the one who had to tell Tus of the Dagger and the Hassansins. Of Tamina and Dastan's love for her. Of how the blow of Nizam's betrayal could have been so much worse. The entire thing made him feel ill but Bis had never been one to shy away from things that made him sick. Like drinking into oblivion or betting his entire allowance on Dastan's ability to get out of bad situations rather than his mediocre fighting skills against bigger men. Why should telling the impossible situation to a man who could slice his head off with a single word be any different. Swallowing back the fear he felt tighten his throat, Bis looked at Tus and began to speak.

"After we left the city of Alamut, we pursued the Hassansins into the desert where they broke apart. The men managed to kill four of them but one got away. We found his trail and folled it to a village that acts as another holy sight for Alamut," Bis said, "by the time we got there it was a place of slaughter. The five children returned to the city were all that survived."

Tus nodded but did not speak, so Bis continued.

"In the Temple there we found the Princess, about to perform a ritual that would end her own life. Garsiv stopped her from completing it and saved her life, but we were trapped in the Temple for hours. When we got out it was nightfall and Dastan had arrived with the Ngbaka Seso. We spent the night on the outskirts of the village."

"So the attack happened today?" Tus said, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," Bis said, "we were making our way back. Around mid day the Hassansins struck. They were buried in the sand, waiting for us. We managed to kill them all but not before they struck Dastan, Garsiv and Seso," Bis said, "Dastan took the darts meant for Garsiv, though Garsiv still managed to get hit with one. Seso suffered his wounds protecting Princess Tamina, but his knowledge of knife throwing skill helped to keep Dastan alive long enough to get him back here."

"It was your idea to keep the Hassansin alive," Tus said. Bis nodded, "a wise choice but he is still unconscious, all his knowledge lost to us."

"Garsiv still wished to express his anger," Bis explained.

Tus nodded but the ashen expression on his face did not leave. He had barely been able to steady Garsiv when he had lost consciousness moments after they entered the courtyard of the palace. Thankfully someone had grabbed Aksh's reins, Tus's hands had been full making sure that neither of his brother's fell to the ground. They had come with stretchers, first easing the unconscious Dastan off the horse, doing their best not to jostle the darts in his back and shoulders, all held in place by the blood soaked bandages. Though his brother was white as a sheet, Tus knew it was nothing short of a miracle his chest was rising and falling at all. They had pulled Garsiv away next, the slight color on his face almost gone now that the poison had taken hold of him. The moment Garsiv had been pulled from his hands, Tus had jumped off the horse and walked after the men who carried their prone forms.

He knew in that moment he should have stopped Garsiv from leaving.

Things had been so strained between himself and his brother as of late. But like a fool he had not pushed the matter. Between their younger brother's wedding plans, their father's reprimands and uncovering the extent of their uncle's treachary, there had been more than enough excuses not to talk. After Dastan's departure he had seen to making sure the celebrations continued without the bride and bridegroom while Garsiv and Bis hunted down the Hassansins. When Garsiv had come running down the hall, telling him that they had found the trail of a Hassansin leaving the city and he was heading off in persuit, Tus had almost stopped him. It had been on his tongue to call his brother back, to tell him that he could not go. But Garsiv's eyes had shown with determination and, as usual, Tus had found it impossible to deny him.

With their father's feeling on siblings, since Garsiv came into the world Tus had barely spent a moment outside his company. At first he had resented the screaming child who had been thrust into the few moments of serenity he was able to get outside of training. He hated everything from the child's black hair to the way he would scream until he got his way. The women, trying to break him of the habit would let him wail. The first time Tus had picked his younger brother up was when he was about to shake him until he was quiet. But the moment the black haired child was held, his cries stopped. Garsiv looked up at him tearfully before his face broke into a wide, toothless smile at the sight of his brother, one of his tiny fists grabbing Tus's newly grown out hair and tugging it.

Unfortunately it came to be that Garsiv refused to be comforted by anyone else. As he grew older, Garsiv continued to look at Tus as though he had put the moon and stars in the sky. Everything his brother did, he wanted to do. Every time his brother left, Garsiv would be furious and inconsolable until Tus came back. Nizam and Sharaman traded indulgent smiles, enjoying what they cliamed to be a mirror image of what they had been as children. As he got older Tus taught Garsiv to ride a horse and fight with a sword, though Garsiv quickly excelled at such things, surpassing even Tus's skill which wore thin as diplomacy took over. As he got older, Tus found that he came to depend on Garsiv as well. If a meeting went badly or their father reprimanded him, often times the only person who could bring a smile to the future King's face was his little brother. The little brother whose wicked tongue had only gotten worse with age, despite Tus's best attempts at taming it.

And now that same brother lay dying in the white halls of the Alamutian palace, with the brother they had both come to love.

"Your Highness," a man wearing the clothing of a Persian guard entered the room, dropping to the ground in front of the future King in a deep bow, "the Hassansin is awake."

Tus's eyes widened before his expression smoothed out. He looked at Bis who nodded his understanding to him. Without another word both men followed him. The moment they left the room a man wearing the clothing of a high ranking Alamut solider fell into step beside them and took the lead. He led them down a long corridor lined with guards and lit by bright torches. The floor sloped gently downwards, taking them below the city to where the prisoners were held. They reached a hallway lined with identical doors, guards positioned against the walls. The Alamutian guard stopped in front of the door and looked between the two of them. They did not move but Bis and Tus were sure that they would not stop them either.

They stepped into the room with the Hassansin.

In the short time he had been in the palace the Hassansin had been stripped of his armor and weapons and black garb. Looking at him Bis sorely wished that took away the mystique of the man sitting in front of him, but that was not the case. The white cotton clothing he wore only served to make his pale skin seem paler. The dark kohl that lined his eyes was mostly gone, leaving smears of the ebony pigment on his skin. The bruises that darkened one eye and shone stark on his forehead only seemed to make him seem even more fierce. His short dark hair was matted with sweat though the sand had been stopped by the clothing he wore. When he raised his fevered blue eyes to Bis and Tus, Bis felt the familiar shiver race down his spine. The man was unarmed and bound and yet there was no doubt in Bis's mind that the Hassansin would kill again.

"Tell me, Hassansin," Tus said, "do you know you are the last of your kind?"

"Yes."

The Hassansn's voice was bored. Not calm or soft or deadly. It was just bored. As though killing Princes and being shouted at by Kings was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His bright gaze seemed to easily take in both of them before his eyes went to Bis. No smile shown on his features but the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. When his gaze went to Tus. Then his lips did curve into the barest of smiles, as though he knew something the others did not.

"My brothers have been poisoned by your weapons," Tus said, "the Hassansins used to be loyal to the Persian King. I know they have fallen to your poison. Tell me which one it is."

"No," the Hassansin answered.

"They are dying," Tus said. The Hassansin gave no reply, "you would just let two innocent men die? Two Princes of the Empire you were once loyal to?" Tus's features hardened, "have you no honor?" Tus demanded.

"It is with your father," the Hassansin said, "as is my name. My family. My. loyalty."

Tus's fist clenched. His father was in no condition to speak to them. He had not been to see his father since hi brother's had been brought to the palace but he had a feeling that news of his two sons dying could very well be the thing that killed the King. And listening to the words of the last of the Hassansin, who he had thought he had disbanded could very well kill him. Tus could not put his father through that. The Hassansin continued to look at him, seemingly bored with the entire situation.

"They are my brothers," he said.

"The men were mine," the Hassansin replied.

"Killing my brothers will not bring yours back," he said.

The Hassansin looked at him but said nothing.

"Tell me how to save them!" Tus snarled after a moment of infuriating silence. .

"Tell me, Prince," the Hassansin said titling his head to examine Tus, "how does it feel to be the last of your kind?"

Unable to watch the scene anymore, Bis nodded to one of the guards who quickly moved closer to the King, taking his place. Bis turned and left the room, all but staggering out into the hallway. Pressing his hand to the stone, the young man took deep gasps of air, fighting the urge to vomit on the marble at his feet. That man was going to let Dastan, Garsiv and Seso die without blinking one of those fevered blue eyes of his. He had seen all three of the King's sons pull off miracles but even he did not know if they would be able to beat the devil at his own game.

The sound of footfalls made him lift his head. A pretty young woman was coming down the hallway towards him. She wore the white and gold of the women who served Tamina, the hood of her cloak pulled up over her hair. A narrow silver chain wrapped around her left ankle and her right wrist was heavy with thin gold bangles. The jewelry was a fraction of what Tamina wore when she was putting on the airs of a Princess, but it marked the woman coming towards him as one of the higher ranking people who served Tamina. She carried nothing in her hands, but Bis had a feeling from the blank look in her eyes she had either just come from seeing the Princess or was heading there now.

"Excuse me," Bis said, stopping the woman in her tracks, "I need to speak to Princess Tamina."

"The Princess will not see anyone," came the reply, though the serenity of the voice that spoke it was sharply edged.

"I need to speak to her," he said, not caring that desperation sparked his tone, "I'm a friend of Prince Dastan's, I brought her back to the Palace."

The woman looked at him hard, her dark eyes taking in his barely washed and decidedly disheveled form. Bis knew he must have looked terrible, probably smelled it too. He could only hope that the woman would see the desperation on his face and let him speak to Tamina.

"I will have someone show you to your room," she said, turning to go.

"Please," he said. Her feet paused and he quickly spoke, "Dastan wouldn't want her to be alone."

She looked at him again, though whether she would tell him to go away or not, Bis couldn't say. If she did he was going to have to find someone else and try to convince them to let him speak to the Princess. And if they decided to take him to Tamina's rooms, he might very well be turned away by the same woman who stood before him now. Her eyes never left his face as she tried to decide. Finally she turned away, starting down the hallway. Bis swore, looking down at the marble before he heard her feet stop. His head flew up as he looked at her, belatedly realizing that she was waiting for him to follow. As if she could sense the fact that he was not a noble and therefore not deserving of the same deference. Quickly Bis hurried to catch up with her.

The woman was silent as she led him down the hallway and Bis knew better than to ask her more questions. As they walked the lower ranking servants lowered their eyes to the woman. The show of deference to her was minimal but it was clear that the woman held some kind of power within the walls of the palace. Even if the servants did not show disrespect to him, their eyes did show confusion as to why a dirty, disheveled man was wearing a robe fit for a high advisor of a King. He heard the trickling of fountains at the same time he saw more guards lining the hall. He knew they were at Princess Tamina's rooms. The woman stopped and turned to him.

"I will speak to the Princess," she said, her eyes sweeping him up and down, "what is your name?"

"Bis," he said.

The woman arched an eyebrow, as if she could not believe that was his name before her expression quickly smoothed back out. Bis offered a lopsided smile but the woman had already turned her back to him. She nodded to the two guards, moving seamlessly through the ornate door they held open for her. As it closed Bis leaned against the wall. After a few impossibly long minutes the woman walked back out, a glass globe in her hand. For a moment Bis thought that she was going to throw it at his head or, as her fingers undid the top, that she was going to dump its contents on him. Then she took the glass stick attached to the cap out and flicked her wrist, sending drops of the perfumed oil all over him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, squeezing his eyes shut and raising his hands.

"In Alamut we do not greet our rulers smelling like death warmed over," the woman told him matter of factly. He heard the glass globe being set on the ground but by the time he opened his eyes the woman was in front of him, "arms out," she ordered.

"But-"

"Arms out," she repeated.

Bis sighed and stretched his arms out, trying not to sneeze as the smell of the oil invaded his nose. The woman tugged at his robes, straightening fabric and smoothing out wrinkles. Her movements were brisk and efficient as if she got people ready to see the Princess all the time. For some reason the idea of Tamina having someone whose task it was to make sure people were presentable when they met her was so rediculous it was suddenly hard not to laugh. The woman stepped back, giving him a once over wth her eyes before seeming to decide he was presentable. Turning on her heel she walked over to the doors and nodded once to the guard, standing to the side. Bis walked forward as the door opened and stepped into the room, his eyes going to the woman by the door but her own were averted. Bis frowned and stepped fully into the room. Only when the doors shut behind him and he raised his eyes did he see why someone would look down in Tamina's presence.

Tamina employed miracle workers, that was the only explanation for what he saw in front of him.

There was not an ounce of dirt or drop of blood on her skin. The torn, ragged men's clothing was gone, replaced by a soft white robe that had been artfully draped to hide the wound on her back. If he didn't know it was there, he wouldn't think she had been hurt. The fabric draped her arms, hiding bruised skin and her injured hand in the gauzy softness. Her dark had had been washed and tamed, now it hung perfectly strait across her shoulders and down her back. When she turned he saw they had done something to her skin so that the sunburns she had suffered were reduced to the bronze of her skin. The robe was draped low in front and he could see a silver chain gracing her throat, but whatever ornament it held was hidden by the folds of cloth. His trained eyes could pick out the worry and exhaustion on her face but to everyone else she looked perfectly composed, perfectly serene, perfectly like a Princess.

"Leave us," Tamina said, her tone soft but firm.

The handful of women in the room quickly bowed and departed, leaving the two of them in peace. Even when they were gone the calmness in Tamina's gaze did not waver. But Bis had enough experience with Tus to know that she was so exhausted that if she let the mask she wore crumble, even for a moment, she was going to go to pieces. Her steps were smooth as she walked over to him. She did not limp or stumble, though Bis had a feeling everyone else in their party would have been at least hobbling after their frantic ride towards the city. But not Tamina. She stopped in front of him, her eyes rising to meet his. Someone had reapplied the khol to her eyes and treated them so that all signs of her earlier tears and the abuse of the sand and sun were gone.

"I told Tus what happened," he said, his voice calm, "he doesn't know about the Dagger but he'll probably ask you about it."

"Thank you," Tamina said, "I will answer his questions," she glanced behind him, "does he wish to speak to me?"

"No, ah, he is a little preoccupied," Bis said, "with the Hassansin."

Tamina's features tightened for a moment in what could have been a grimace. One of her hands moved slightly forward as though to press to something in comfort. But the hand stopped and the grimace passed and a moment later Bis was half sure he had imagined any discomfort on her face. She didn't even shake herself to get back to her serene state. It flowed over her, seamlessly turning her back into the perfect Princess of moment's earlier.

"Has he been helpful?" Tamina asked.

Bis shook his head.

"I see," Tamina said, moving forward, her face unreadable. Bis's fingers brushed her shoulder and Tamina froze.

The feel of the hand on her shoulder was almost her undoing.

Tamina forced herself back from Bis, making sure her eyes looked upwards rather than at the young man-or anywhere down. If she looked down, if she let her emotions show, she knew she would come undone. Bone deep exhaustion tugged at her. So much had happened, she wondered if the last time they had done something like this if she had been so tired. But the thought immediately passed. she would not have been tired, she was dead. Dead like the Guardians who had come before her, dead like her parents and her aunt. Like Asma and her children, like all the guardians who had kept watch before her.

Dead like Dastan would soon be.

Tamina's stomach rolled and she found herself hard pressed not to be sick. She had watched the men slide him away his brother's limp grip and onto the stretcher, taking him inside. She had been locked on the saddle, unable to think or breathe or move. The image of his too pale face, of his limp body moving listlessly with the touch of the men who pulled him away, she felt like it was burned into her mind. It had happened so fast and yet she was sure it was single longest day of her entire life. From the time she had watched him fall to the time that she had watched the healers pull him away, she could scarcely remember a thing. It was like watching a dream.

Because that was all she had done.

She had watched.

He had made it so that she was safe, so that his brother was safe. He had fought so hard to undo what the Dagger had shown him, to keep the terrible future from coming to pass. And even though she was the Dagger's Guardian, she had not been able to do _anything_. Disgust flared in her. She could not perform her duty as a Guardian and give her life for the world. She could not save the other guardians or help Dastan or do anything. Disgust flared in her at her own uselessness. And now what could she do? Dastan and Garsiv were dying and the secret to saving them was in the lips of a man who would not voice it.

He would not speak.

Not to Tus, not to Sharaman, not to anyone. Tamina felt her fingers curled into fists. The secret to saving them was close, it was so close and yet he would not say it. Tamina shoved aside the wariness that gnawed at her. The men could do nothing but there was something she could do. Thoughts of consequences, of how she could _not_ do this tumbled through her but she shoved them aside. Before she could second guess her judgement, Tamina looked away from Bis, one hand touching the vial of Sand at her throat. She had to trust her instincts. Without another word to Bis,Tamina turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Wait, Princess, where are you going?" Bis demanded as she swept out of the room and down the hallway.

"I am not going to sit there and weep while my husband fights for his life," Tamina said, not looking back at him as she strode down the hallway.

"I understand that, but where are you going?" he repeated.

Tamina kept walking, not answering him. If she said it aloud, she was afraid her courage would falter. That the rage she felt coursing through her bones would abate and she would see what a mad idea this was. And if that happened, if she did not do this, then-no, Tamina cut herself off. She would do this. She would pull this impossible feat off. Dastan was always saying that things that seemed impossible never were, they were just difficult. What she was about to do, it was quite nearly impossible and certainly ludicrious enough to do her unconscious husband proud. Tamina fought not to quicken her pace, there would be no sense in rushing now. Rushing would show weakness and in spite of the exhaustion that tugged at her, Tamina knew that she needed every ounce of strength she could muster. Behind her she heard Bis's feet falter before the young man swore. He did not know the hallway she was taking but he seemed to know her well enough to understand what she was about to do. And he was not a fan of the idea, that much was obvious. But Tamina was past the point of caring, she was going to do this in spite of everything that told her it was so wrong. She was going to save Dastan, consequences be damned.

Nodding to two of the guards, Tamina swept down the hallway as it began its slope downwards. She saw the looks the gave her as they stepped aside and she knew they thought the idea was as insane as she did. But her mind was made up. The guards were not foolish enought to stop her. Whatever they thought or felt, she was the one who decided what happened. Every man, woman and child in Alamut knew that. All except for one curly haired friend of her husband. Bis hurried after her, quickening his pace until he was running. When he got in front of her he spun and blocked her way. Tamina stopped short, glaring at him.

"Don't do this," Bis said quickly.

"Get out of my way," Tamina said curtly.

"No, listen," he fumbled for the right words, "Dastan wouldn't want you to do this."

Tamina's eyes widened at the words. She knew he was right. Dastan would not want her to do this. But Dastan was laying somewhere behind her, pale as death with sweat standing on his brow and agony rolling over his body. She could still hear his strangled yells from the desert. Dastan was running out of time. She knew her decision was as selfish as it was foolish but none of it mattered. Not when she thought of him laying there. He had gotten her help and, by the Gods, she would do the same for him. Her eyes narrowed at the anxious look on Bis's face. He was hoping that she would listen to him when he reminded her that Dastan wouldn't want her to do what she was about to. For some reason the thought made her furious.

"Dastan is in no condition to make any decisions," she said, sidestepping him, "if he has such a problem with it, he is more than welcome to address me," she continued, "_after_ I have saved his life."

Bis swore again before bolting and blocking her way once again.

"Princess, Tamina, just think about what you're going to do-" he began.

"I know very well what I am going to do," Tamina said, her eyes flashing, "you can either help me or I am more than happy to call the guards and have them escort you back to your rooms."

Bis looked at her helplessly, torn between continuing to stop her and potentially having to fight the guards or taking part in her incredibly stupid, dangerous plan. He knew Dastan would want him to stop her. To do whatever it took to stop her. But he also knew that if Dastan hadn't gone and gotten himself riddled with poisoned darts, they wouldn't be standing there. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Dastan would want him to make sure no harm came to Tamina. Which meant that there was really only one option. Swearing again, this time at royals who knew Dastan and their uncanny ability to get into heaps of trouble, Bis stepped aside. Tamina nodded to him before continuing down the hallway, Bis following the sweep of her robe. Soon they found themselves in a well lit corridor lined with identical doors, guards positioned between each one of them. Though it looked identical to the one that he had traveled with Tus, Bis knew it was not the same one. Looking at it Bis knew it was designed so that anyone who made it this far would be confused and unable to get to their final destination. By his calculation he knew they were well underneath the city now. Bis fought the need to feel sick, thinking of the sands that lay above their head, the narrow layer of stone that supported all that sand-

"Bis are you alright?"

"Oh I'm fine," he said to Tamina, waving his hand, "you know, small spaces, insane Princesses, the fact that when my friend wakes up he may very well have my head cut off for this, what's not to be fine about?"

Tamina glared at him before stopping in front of a pair of guards. They looked at her out of the corner of their eyes and though their expressions remained blank, Bis knew they too were wondering what the Princess was doing down there. Tamina looked between them before her eyes went to the door in front of her nose and she spoke.

"I wish to speak to the Hassansin."

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**You all thought she was going for the sands, didn't you?**

**Oh it might come to that, or it may not, but I just couldn't resist givng Tamina a scene with the Hassansin leader. I mean she freakin helped to kill the guy last time. Plus even though it was warrented for her to be hysterical and upset, I totally want to get back to her awesome watch-me-outtalk-you-you-perisan-idiot-self. And maybe include some of her being sweet to her poor hubby. Also expect some bro-love btw Garsiv and Tus. And some more Tus gets angry as a big bro. AND Seso talks!**

**MBR time people! (woot woot). So click the button, share your thoughts and push us closer to the next update! Because when you review you are awesome and when I update I am awesome and it is like we are having our own not-so-little awesome party here!**

**So please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**OMG I LOVE how many of you are Gleeks! That and Fringe are my two favorite TV shows right now...and both are on breaks for the summer! And look how many of you are brilliant and knew that Tamina wasn't going for the Sands. I have such smart readers!**

**Anyway, back to the story! Thank you all for putting up with the terrible lack of D/T in the past two chapters. I'm not happy about it either but I did want to give the other guys a chance to shine. But don't worry, we've got badass Tamina, Tus and Garsiv bonding AND, of course, Dastan/Tamina. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! We are MBR-ing the hell out of this and it is awesome!**

**Now back to the story!**

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Tamina had thought when she saw the Hassansin, stripped of his robes and his weapons, he would look like an oridnary man.

Like a man incapable of what he had done.

But that was not the case. The man sitting in front of her looked every inch like someone who could have done what he did. His bright, fevered blue eyes looked at her from pockets of skin smudged with ruined kohl. A scar from what looked like a burn stretched from just below his temple, across his cheek and down his throat, the skin mangled with injury. Fresh bruises marred his face from Garsiv's fists, yet they did nothing to humanize the demon sitting in front of her. The dark hair on his head was longer than most men, though not as long as the Princes whose deaths he would be responsible for. Ignoring the fear that raced across her skin, Tamina met the Hassansin's eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, her voice cool.

The Hassansin tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. His eyes did not leave her face but Tamina had no doubt her entire person had been surveyed by his gaze. Dastan had always looked at her like he could see past the facade she put up and even if she had not liked the idea when he said it, she had not felt uncomfortable. The Hassansin looked at her and Tamina felt the same way, like everything she was was laid out for his gaze. But there was none of the humor that always seemed to spark Dastan's gaze, none of the kindness either. There was nothing in the feverish eyes of the Hassansin. No anger, no fear, no calmness, just deadened blue eyes that looked at her as though they could see down to her very soul.

"Princess Tamina," his voice bore traces of an accent, though from where she could not say.

"I know who ordered the deaths of the Princes and theft of the Dagger," Tamina told him, "even if your master was alive, he would not pay you for the job you've done."

"Payment," the Hassansin's voice stopped her and if she did not know better, Tamina would have thought there was something akin to bitterness in his tone, "you know nothing of Hassansins."

"Nor do I care to," Tamina said, "tell me how to save them."

"Which one?"

Tamina's expression did not change but inside her stomach dropped. Which one? He was going to make her choose? She remembered they had all been struck down by the same man but he very well could have used different poison on all the darts. If she chose to save Dastan she would be listening to her heart. But if she saved him and let Garsiv die, she knew Dastan would never forgive her, just as Garsiv would never forgive her for choosing him over Dastan. And Seso, she did not know what Seso wanted but dying from the Hassansin's darts when he was a throwning knife master seemed a poor thing to do. Tamina looked at the Hassansin's unreadable expression.

"All of them," she said.

The Hassansin said nothing.

"Killing them will not bring your brothers back," Tamina said.

"I have no brothers," the Hassansin told her.

"Those men-" Tamina began.

"Hassansins are taken as boys from their families and brought to the caves in the wastelands on the Persian border," the Hassansin said, "the first five years of training is spent in those caves. The first year,there is nothing but the fist and the foot. The prize for making it to the second is a pair of pants. Third, a robe. On the fourth it is a dagger. The fifth year of survival gives you the greatest prize of all."

"A way out?"

"A purpose," he said.

"Do you think you are the first man to try and use the Dagger for their own gain?" Tamina demanded, "to come here and weave tales of a tragic childhood and a father who did not love them?"

"I have nothing to gain with your Dagger," he said, "my will is the will of my King.

"You disgust your King," Tamina said, "the man who hired you is dead and even if you were to gain the Dagger, you have no way of unleashing the Sands and controlling them well enough to go back to the proper moment."

The Hassansin looked at her.

"You have no purpose anymore.

The Hassansin stood slowly rose to his feet, the chains that had bound him dropping to the ground. Tamina fought not to gasp. She had not heard the sound of him picking the lock and she knew for certain that the Alamut guards had stripped him of everything he had on him. And yet he was out of the locks as if they had never been there. The Hassansin raised his eyes to lock with hers.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Tamina asked with a disdained arch of her eyebrow at the chains the Hassansin held, "I would expect more from a killer of your reputation."

The Hassansin said nothing, her words not affecting him. It occurred to her to call in the guards, but she did not. When she called the guard in they would take him away and she would loose her chance to speak to him. She moved slowly back but the Hassansin moved forward. When her back collided with the stone, his steps stopped. Tamina fought not to feel scared at the sight of him as his bright fevered eyes locked with hers.

"Tell me how to cure them," she repeated.

He looked at her.

"Do you want money? Power?" she asked.

"The Dagger?" he spoke, "would you give that to me?"

Tamina inhaled, fighting not to scram that she would. She could not give it to him, she knew that. And yet if he said that he would do it, that giving him the Dagger would buy Datan's freedom, she did not know what she would say to that. She had to know what was ravaging Dastan's body, she had to know how to save him. And if she had to put the Dagger in front of him, if she had to choose the world over Dastan, she did not know what she would do. The idea of making the choice was sickening.

"No," she said, her voice sounding dull to her ears.

"There is nothing," the Hassansin said, "I will not trade the cure for anything you have-"

"Yes," Tamina cut him off, "a purpose," she shot back. The Hassansin's eyes narrowed and Tamina knew she had him, "tell me how to save them and, if they survive, I will give you a purpose once more. You said that was the greatest prize," she continued, "I will give you that."

The Hassansin turned his eyes towards her. Tamina met his gaze. If he told her how to cure them, she could kill him. If he did not, she could kill him anyway. Any reasonable person would take her deal but Tamina knew that though the man in front of her was many things, reasonable was not one of them. The only thing that he had said he cared about was having a purpose and the King he had been loyal to for his life had taken it from him. She did not feel bad for the man in front of her, the man whose hands could be responsible for the lives of the people she cared deeply about. Nor did she know what purpose she would give him. But if that got her to know the secret to saving Dastan's life, then so be it. She would figure the details out later.

The Hassansin leaned forward, close enough so that Tamina could still smell the desert that clung to his skin. She held herself perfectly still as his breath ghosted her skin, doing her best not to think of snakes as he leaned close, placing his lips by her ear. He whispered six names into her ear, the name of each man and the poison that had struck him down. Slowly the Hassansin drew back, his blue eyes locking with her. Tamina held his gaze with her own, refusing to look away or be ashamed, though she knew that her promise to him was one she should break. The Hassansin knew it too.

"You killed me once," the Hassansin spoke as Tamina fought to keep the surprise off her face, "your Dagger's time is coming to pass once more."

Tamina shoved aside thoughts of what that meant. Of Dastan and her being separated, of the world coming to an end.

"We make our own destiny," Tamina said to him, her voice tight with anger, "Guards!"

The men came running in at her shout, grabbing the Hassansin. He made no move to fight back, letting them grab his arms and restrain him. Tamina was careful to keep her pace slow as she moved away from the wall, refusing to give into the urge to straighten her robe. With measured steps she turned and walked towards the door. Another guard had it open and she knew more men were on there way. Holding herself still, she was silent as she waited for them. Her eyes moved to the most ornately dressed guard, the one who was the highest rank. But she waited to speak unitl they were all within earshot .

"Take this man to the healers," she said, "when the drugs are out of his system he will stand before the High Council."

If any of the guards disliked her judgement, they knew better than to question it. Without another look at the Hassansin, Tamina turned and walked out of the room into the hallway. The guards parted easily for her, letting her walk through. Two of the healers, one Persian, one Alamutian were standing there. Tamina walked over to the pair and told them what the Hassansin had said to her.

"Can you heal them?"

The two nodded before leaving. The feeling of eyes on her drew Tamina's gaze to the wall where Tus stood. Dasta's elder brother and the heir apparent to the Persian throne stood against the wall, his eyes on her. Tamina forced her gaze to be serene as she looked at him. A part of her wanted to shout or scream, most of her wanted to tell him that her patience was barely there and dealing with Dastan's elder brother and the man who had ordered the invasion of her city could very well be her undoing.

She did neither of those things, walking over to Tus with smooth, practiced steps.

"The Hassansin spoke," she said, "the healers have gone ahead to prepare and administer the antidote," Tamina said to Tus, "I will take you to your brothers."

Tus inclined his head and together they left the corridor. They walked down the hall in silence, the Princess of Alamut leading the future ruler of Persia along the white corridors of the palace. A month ago she would have laughed at the thought of a situation like this occuring. Unlike his brothers, Tus seemed content to be silent. Or perhaps it was just the weight of the knowledge of his brother's bad state that held his tongue. But still looking at him it was difficult to imagine him running across rooftops like Dastan or throwing knives to save Princesses like Garsiv. Bis had told her he knew something had happened but that he was not aware of the entire story. Tamina knew that this was not the time to bring up what had transpired in the time that had not come to pass. Not when the time that had come to pass was so incredibly bleak. Not when Garsiv and Dastan were fighting for their lives.

"You will stay with Dastan?" Tus asked, his voice surprising her. Tamina nodded, "I will tend to Garsiv then," he frowned at the surprise on her face.

"My apologies," she smoothed her features out, "I assumed you would have other business to attend to."

"And I you," he said, "considering this is your wedding feast."

Tamina refused to look ashamed at the point he made, though the memories of the times she had chosen the Dagger over Dastan remained clear in her mind. She knew that out of the three brothers, Tus perhaps would understand the most what had gone into those decisions but her mind refused to deal with that. She had enough to think on as it was. And the man walking beside her still needed to be told about the Dagger and the time that had not come to pass. Tamina knew before this was over, Tus may very well be the one brother who truly hated her. She came to a stop when they were at the entrance of the corridor that would lead them to the brother's rooms. Tamina looked at him.

"Your brother is down the hall," she said.

Tus inclined his head as she turned and walked into Dastan's room. He watched the sweep of her robe dissappear into the doorway of his brother's room. What had transpired between her and Dastan, he did not know. But he had seen the way that Dastan had looked at her, even back to that first day when he had met her and he knew that something else was going on. His youngest brother was a quick one but even Dastan did not fall in love in a single day.

"Your Highness!"

Tus's eyes widened at the cry, knowing it was not directed towards him. Which could only mean something had happened to Garsiv. Throwing appearances to the wind, Tus ran down the hallway. The doorway to Garsiv's room was open, the Prince himself was leaning heavily against the wall. He was pale, sweat shining on his skin. His arm where the dart had embedded itself hung limply by his side. His other arm was wrapped around his middle. His entire body was trembling but from the way he was leaning against the wall Tus knew his brother was barely able to stand. But he refused to move towards the room, in spite of the two men who stood on either side of him.

"Garsiv-Garsiv!" Tus shook off his paralysis and quickly closed the distance between them, placing his hands on his brother's too hot shoulders, "what are you doing out of bed?"

It took his brother's fever and pain glazed eyes a moment to focus on his face. When they did his hand moved towards him but a spasm of pain passed over his face and his hand remained gripping his side.

"D-" Garsiv gritted his teeth, a strangled yell escaping where Dastan's name should have been.

"Dastan is still alive," Tus said, "we have to get you back into bed-"

"No-no!" Garsiv shook his head, trying to clear it, "he did this for me-" Garsiv cut off with a low groan, his knees buckling. Tus pulled him up against his chest, taking his brother's weight onto his form. Garsiv cursed through gritted teeth.

"You are no good to Dastan like this," Tus said, his voice low but firm, "we need to get you back to bed."

Not waiting for Garsiv's consent, Tus half carried, half dragged his younger brother to the bed, refusing the help of the men who moved forward. The few steps that Garsiv managed were absolute agony but Tus knew Garsiv had his pride. He eased Garsiv onto the sheets as gently as he could but even the slightest jostling made Garsiv tense in pain. When he was against the pillows Garsiv curled in on himself, pressing his face into the pillow to muffle his hoarse shout of agony. Tus winced and closed his eyes, his fingers tightening in the bedclothes. There was nothing that he could do to ease his little brother's suffering. The poison was not bad enough that was unconscious. All he could do was suffer as it worked itself through his system.

"You should be with Dastan," Garsiv said.

"Dastan has Tamina to fuss over him," Tus said, "I am staying with you."

Garsiv swore, collapsing against the bed, his chest struggling as he fought to catch his breath. It would be moments before the muscle spasms happened again, sending him reeling. Tus quickly grabbed the water pitcher that lay nearby, filling a cup and moving to Garsiv's head. His young brother's eyes opened at the approach. As though Garsiv was a child again, Tus held the cup to his lips.

"Drink," he ordered.

Garsiv obeyed. And so the night wore on. Spasms of pain tore at Garsiv, exhaustion burning through him in their wake. Tus pushed any weariness aside. He forced Garsiv to drink and to remain lying down, though he knew Garsiv wanted nothing more than to make sure Dastan was alright. The cycle of pain and muscle spasms was agonizing to watch, all bathed in the weakness of the fever that burned at him. Yet no matter how sick or pained Garsiv was, Tus refused to leave his side. His once concession to Garsiv's pride was to get rid of the healers that hovered nearby. There were twenty of them, a mix of Persian and Alamutian faces, all anxiously hovering over the Prince. When Tus sent them away, Garsiv let out a harsh sound, though Tus could see he fought to smile.

"Never-" his brother bit back a yell, "never understood why they sent so many healers. I am-" he inhaled sharply but pressed forward, "not big enough to accomodate their hands."

"No, no you are not," Tus said, "and even if you were, you still would not want them here. You and Dastan never enjoyed being treated for your wounds."

"Come off it, b-brother," Garsiv said with a strangled grin, "neither did you."

"I have always been the best of us at dealing with the annoyances of life."

Gariv let out a bitter chuckle and shook his head before his eyes shut in pain, his hand gripping Tus's. Tus gripped his hand back, his fingers tight on Garsiv's. The spasm passed and Garsiv's eyes focused on his. Still glazed with pain, there was still more clarity in them than Tus had seen all day. Garsiv gripped his hand urgently, his eyes locked on Tus's.

"We won't be like them," he announced, the fever loosening his tongue, "I swear, we won't."

Tus did not need to ask who Garsiv spoke of, he knew. His fingers tightened on his brother's hand.

"Never," Tus agreed.

Garsiv nodded weakly, sagging back against the bedding. A sound drew their attention to the wall. They both turned to see a woman standing there, clad in the garb of one of Tamina's serving women. The modest jewelry she wore marked her as a woman who ranked high enough in the household to be able to wear ornaments. Though Tus was not her future King, the woman still averted her eyes as she waited for him to speak. Tus looked at the doorway but it was closed. He did not know how long she had been standing there and he could only hope that she would have the sense to tell him quickly if Dastan was dead.

"How is my brother?" Tus asked.

"He is alive, Your Highness" the woman said, "the antidote has been given but his fever has not broken. Your healers and those of Alamut have done all they can, Your Highness," she raised her eyes for a moment before looking down, "the Princess waits with him."

Garsiv's grip was surprisingly strong as he pulled Tus down. Garsiv looked close to madness, his bright eyes locking on Tus's own.

"Go to Dastan," he said.

"Tamina-"

"He is our brother," Garsiv continued, his voice still hoarse from the screams he fought back, "I cannot move," he said, his hand tightening in Tus's robe, "you must be there for him," his fingers tightened on the fabric of his shoulder, "go."

Tus nodded, clasping Garsiv's hand before releasing it. Getting to his feet he followed the woman down the hallway to where Dastan lay. The woman opened the door for him but did not enter. Slowly Tus stepped into the room. The few lights around the room offered patched of golden light but for the most part the room was darkened. The healers had done what they could. Light to work by would do nothing for them, not if there was no work to be done. The smell of incense and perfume hung in the air, hiding the scent of herbs that had smelled so strongly in Garsiv's room. Tus trailed his eyes across the room, delaying the inevitable moment when he would have to see what his little brother had been reduced to. Finally his eyes found the prone form of Dastan, his tan skin reduced to a color so pale he very nearly blended with the bedsheets.

Dastan did not look frail. Neither had Garsiv. Though unconsciousness somewhat tamed his brother's normally larger than life personality, Dastan still did not look small or frail. he looked like a dying warrior. Like someone who would one day have great stories written about him. But the glory that awaited Dastan brought no comfort to Tus. He would rather have his brother who still found ways to escape from formal events of state like he had when he was a boy. There were no other people in the room, none save for the Princess who sat beside his brother. Tamina looked at him with a face that could only be described as serene. A face that Tus knew well held nothing but a lie. Slowly he walked over to the bed, fighting not to feel as though he was intruding on something between the two of them. Tamina waited until he was beside the bed to look over at him.

"He never looked small," Tus said, looking at his brother, "not since he was brought to the palace all those years ago as a boy."

Tamina looked over at Tus. Bis's stories, Tus's as well all seemed especially bitter. If Dastan had been awake she would have laughed at them, at the foolish, brave exploits of the boy who grew to be a Prince. But there was no humor in them now. Not when the man that boy had grown to become was laying so still.

"The healers say it is up to him now."

"Then I have faith everything will be alright," Tus said. Tamina looked at him, "Dastan is the luckiest man I have ever known. If it is up to him, he will live through this."

Tamina said nothing, looking back at his brother's slackened face. Tus looked at the way Tamina looked at him, his eyes trying to search past the serenity the Princess betrayed. But he could not. The Princess's mask was as honed as his own. Which could only mean that she was feeling something for his brother, something worth hiding. He looked over at the side of the bed where she sat. Tamina had placed her hand underneath Dastan's. The sweetness of the gesture struck him. As his wife she would have been expected to be there but her need to touch him, to make sure he knew she was there, that was something more. Something that revealed she did care for him. Tus looked between them once more before speaking.

"I must return to Garsiv," he said.

Tamina gave the barest of nods as Tus moved towards the door. He had found it strange how deeply Dastan cared for Tamina but as he saw the way she looked at his brother, Tus knew Tamina cared for him as well. A strange pair, to be sure, but Tus could see he had no place in the room with the two of them. Ignoring the ache that sent through him, he slipped out leaving Dastan with his love. If nothing else when Garsiv-and Dastan-had recovered, he knew they would chew his ears off with their teasing over the matter.

Tamina listened to the door close before looking back at Dastan.

Tus had been right, even half dead Dastan did not look small on the bed. Pale, sick, dying but not small. His brown hair was dark with sweat and water from when the healers had tried to force the fever from his body. Though his features were serene, Tamina could see his muscles were still tense. Every so often they seemed to spasm of their own accord, his limbs moving with a life of their own. But the worst part was that every twich, every jerk, every movement would fill her with wild hope that he was waking up. He never did though and the moment he lay still again, dissapointment surged through her. She was sure it was the exhaustion that continiously drove her to the point of foolish tears. Tears that she refused to shed around anyone else. They took her expressions and emotions at face value, accepting that she truly was that strong.

Dastan would not have.

She knew if he had been awake he would have taken one look at her and carried her off to her bedchamber. To _their_ bedchamber. She would have fought and raved and called him an idiot but he would have done it all the same. And with that infuriatingly charming grin of his. For being a noble himself, Dastan really did have no patience for others hiding their emotions. And the only time she had truly seen him hide his own was during that miserable month when he had tried to fight what he had seen from the Dagger. It hit her then just how short a time she had known him. A month and a handful of days. It was hardly long enough to do the impossible things they had done. To learn about the Dagger, to save the world twice, to go back and forth across his father's vast empire, to watch people die and come back.

To fall in love.

Tamina squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the tears. Gods, she had been a fool. Dastan had said that they only kissed before she had fallen to her death and yet the effect of loosing her had been obvious and terrible. He had told her that he could have loved her. Now he had said he thought he did. She had told herself that it was impossible to think she could love him in such a short time. But the thought of living the rest of her life without him made her heart ache. She had been so certain that there was no way to love him and to perform the duty she was sworn to do. Uncertainity that she could still gnawed at her, but the desperate shout had become little more than a whisper in the back of her mind.

Reflexively Dastan's fingers tightened against hers. Tamina's head flew up, her eyes going to his hand as his grip became almost painfully tight as his muslces went rigid. He was not awake, it was not Dastan that held her hand, she knew that all and yet her fingers relfexively gripped his back, her eyes scanning his face half torn between wanting him to be awake or remain unconscious and in less pain. Just as quickly as it had begun, the spasm passed and Dastan's hand slacked against hers, the rigid muscles going slack. There was no more lying that Dastan's hand had gripped hers because he was there to tell his body what to do. There was only the bleak, terrible truth that Dastan was lost to her. That the body on the bed was just that, a body. With none of Dastan's wit or humor or even anger. As the truth crashed into her, Tamina felt the threatenings of tears.

She closed her eyes, viciously biting the inside of her cheek and breathing through her nose. She was not going to weep, not now, not here. Dastan was alive, the Dagger was safe, his hand had tightened against hers before. There was no reaspon that _this_ should be the thing that undid her. No reason and yet the stining in her eyes and the tightness of her throat had never been , she felt as if she was going to fall apart. As if she was going to crumble to the stones on the floor and just sob until she had no more tears left in her. Dastan was unconscious. She had to be strong, the people who stood outside of the doors were depending on her for strength. And yet all she could feel was worry. Worry that he was never going to wake up and call her Tamina in that way of his that turned her name into both a prayer and a curse. That he was never going to help her escape from those formal parties. But mostly she was terrified that he was never going to wake and she would never find out what it felt like to wake up in his arms without thoughts of saving the Dagger tumbling through her head.

The movement was so slight Tamina almost missed it. Not the work of the poison or his body reacting to it. It was slight and weak but the moment she felt it Tamina's eyes flew open. Tears coursed down her cheeks but she was past caring. She held herself perfectly still, her eyes locked on his slackened features. As she held her breath, she was half sure she had imagined it.

Then Dastan's trembling fingers moved weakly against her own.

* * *

**Okay so Tamina kicked ass and everyone seems to realize their in love. Hopefully Dastan'll be okay and they can do more smexy time...I mean so they can figure this all out. **

**Get ready for the return of Sheik Amar. He may hate blackmailing and having his ostrich's upset but he also really hates it when people mess with what's his. And Seso's his guard (and friend) so he's gonna be pissed. **

**MBR time ppl! I'm sorry for the slight delay in the new chapter but hey, its still up at my rate of 1 per day! So show some love and click the button and find out what happens next! You review, I'll update and we'll all be awesome. **

**So please review! **


	18. Chapter 18

**I am blown away by the number of reviews this story has. Seriously I never thought (though I secretly hoped) that I'd get to 1,000 reviews. But you all actually did do it! Even with me deleting people's reviews you managed to hit the 1,000th mark! According to my dubious math skills AND the notifications I get, Shea holds the equally dubious honor of being the 1,000th reviewer to Sadalsuud. But what really chokes me up...no, wait, I mean, what has me jumping up and down cheering is the fact that so many of you review consistently! There's none of that "well I reviewed last chapter" attitude here. Your consistent feedback and theories and general awesomeness is just overwhelming to me. And I'm so happy the story's not done yet!**

**This story and our lil' MBR has become legen...wait for it...dary!**

**Oh and there's another OFC *ducks* her role will be minor! I swear. She's actually already been in the story. But sadly she's necessary for this. Its not like Tamina's the only guardian, she's just the head one. I want to give a little more insight into the life and times fo the guardians of the Dagger and i need an OC to do that. **

**Speaking of which, back to the story!**

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"Someone help!"

Tamina's desperate shout froze Tus's blood in his veins. Garsiv had fallen into a fitful slumber and did not stir at the scream. At the desperate shout of his sister in law, Tus moved from Garsiv's bedside and ran into the hallway. Healers were running for Dastan's room. Tus pushed past them, heedless of the fact that he would be of no help to his brother. He got into the room, his eyes taking in the scene. Tamina was by the bed, her hand tight around his brothers.

Dastan seemed to be in the throws of the same spasms that had ravaged Garsiv, his entire body rigid with pain. All the vestiges of calm were gone from Tamina's face. She looked terrified and helpless, not knowing what to do as Dastan's body reacted to the antidote working itself through his system. He had been hit worse with the poison, thus his journey back to health would be worse as well. Tamina had struggled to stay with him, he knew that, just as he knew the last thing Dastan would want was for his wife to see him as he was. Moving past the healers, Tus quickly walked over to Tamina.

"You need to leave," he said.

"No," Tamina shook her head, her fingers tight on Dastan's grip.

"Yes," Tus said firmly, his hand laying on her wrist, "we must let the healers do their work," he looked at the man who stood nearby, dressed in the garb of a Persian who nodded his agreement, "you can do nothing for him here."

Tamina opened her lips, her eyes moving to Dastan's face. His jaw was locked, features tight with agony as he fought with everything he could not to break apart completely. It was the most heartbreaking thing Tamina had ever seen. For someone as brave and strong as Dastan to be reduced to a man writhing on the bed, fighting not to howl. How could this have happened? How could he be getting worse so quickly? Tus did not move his hand from Tamina's wrist. He knew the truth in his words and the urgency of getting her out of the room. But he also knew if he dragged her out, well, he could not drag her out. Not like this. Tus looked from Dastan's agonized face to Tamina's nearly hysterical one.

"He would not want you to see him like this," Tus said to the Princess. Tamina turned her head to look at him, "the healers need to do their work and we are only in the way."

Tamina squeezed her eyes shut, not caring as tears leaked out of her eyes. One moment Dastan had weakly moved his fingers around hers and the next his eyes had flown open. There had been nothing but pain and fever in them, Tamina doubted he even would know who she was. It had happened so quickly she had been stunned. She heard someone shouting for help but it had taken her a full minute to realize that the voice that had shouted, the voice high with fear and worry, was her own. She could do nothing for him, she knew that, and yet it seemed impossible that she could move away from the tortured figure on the bed.

And yet she knew that his brother was right.

It was on her lips to say something to Dastan, to tell him the secret she had not dared believe herself. But one look at him told her she could not. If she told him now, if she told him like this, then she knew every time she said the words to him they would be tainted. It hurt, more than she would have thought to release her grip on his hand and gently draw her fingers back. When her strength failed, Tus gently continued to withdraw her hand, easing it away. The moment her hand left his grip, Dastan's fingers locked on the sheets, his jaw clenching tighter. Moving another hand to her shoulder, Tus led the Princess out of the room. The door swung shut behind them.

But even the heavy wood was not enough to block the yell that came from Dastan's room.

"Gods-" Tamina turned around, ready to go back in there, consequences be damned, but Tus refused to release her.

"Princess," he looked at the door, seemingly as tortured as she was at the sound of Dastan's cries, "he would not want you to see him like this," Tus repeated, looking at the door, "we need to leave."

He led her to Garsiv's room where they sat, away from Dastan's harsh cries and the healers that ran back and forth in the room trying to help his body work through the poison and the antidote. Both were silent. Save for the breaths that escaped Garsiv's lips there was not a sound in the room. Tamina knew that Dastan would be alright, he was the strongest man she had ever known, but she wished to every God she knew that there was some way to ease his pain. To make the journey less agonizing. They sat in silence with Garsiv's sleeping form until the rosy glow of dawn began to peek over the horizon, sending warm light through the lattice woodwork of the windows. Tamina looked at the dawn. It was the final day of her wedding feast.

It had been three days.

The weight of all that had happened in those three days pressed down on her and suddenly the fact that Dastan had even remained conscious when he stood in front of her in the hall was impressive. She was so exhausted that she had passed the point where she felt any real weariness. She just felt numb. Not even the knowledge that Dastan suffered somewhere nearby was enough to make her feel anything. It was like someone had taken everything she was and pulled it away, leaving nothing but a hollow, dazed shell in its wake. Even the sound of Garsiv stirring into wakefulness was not enough to do anything past draw her eyes to the form on the bed.

Slowly Garsiv opened his eyes. Instantly a cup of water was in Tus's hand. Garsiv's own came up and pressed against the cup. Though his fingers trembled and the look he sent Tus's way was half hearted at best, the message was clear. And completely ignored by his elder brother who kept his hand on the cup as Garsiv drank the water down. Setting it aside, Garsiv leaned back against the pillows. Tamina looked at him, finding it odd that his hair was loose. It made him seem younger, more delicate even though she knew he would kill her for thinking such a thing. Garsiv looked at her, confusion passing over his face before he looked up at Tus.

"Dastan?" he asked.

"Awake," Tus replied, his tone more hollow than his brother's.

"The healers," Tamina surprised them all as she spoke, "the healers gave him the antidote, but he has more of the poison in his system," she added.

"He knew what would happen," Garsiv said darkly. Tamina nodded.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tus said, "how could Dastan possibly have known what was going to happen?"

Tamina looked at Garsiv. The second Prince looked back at her, his gaze oddly sympathetic. Though it had been on Nizam's information, Tus had ordered the invasion of the city. Tus had been the one Dastan believed to have killed him. Tus had benefited the most from the time that had not come to pass. King of Persia, threats slowly being eliminated one by one. Garsiv had faith in his brother, but he knew Tamina did not. She had not told him of what had transpired in that time, Dastan had. His throat hurt but Garsiv still would have spoke to Tus. But he knew that the Dagger was not his to describe, its secrets not his to tell. All of that fell to the Princess sitting beside him.

"Have you wondered why your Uncle was so intent on taking Alamut?" Tamina asked, looking at Tus.

"No," Tus said. Garsiv opened his mouth to tell Tus to stop being such a prideful idiot but the future King continued, "forgive me, Princess, but my own spies have done their looking in your city. I know the weapons my Uncle showed to me were forgeries, just as I know that there are no forges in Alamut. But I know there are collapsed tunnels underneath your palace. And I know that you protect something. Something great enough to make even a lowly coward like my Uncle a King."

"When?"

"When you rode off with my brother," Tus said.

Tamina looked at her hands. It made sense. Even if he had his suspicions beforehand, he had nothing concrete to go on and he would not have dared to risk offending her after the invasion with an investigation. But once she and Dastan had ridden off, still dressed in the clothing that they should have worn to their wedding night, it made sense he would put caution aside. Distanly she thought that she should be offended. Or upset at the thought of Persian spies roaming around the palace, but she was too exhausted to summon any kind of anger. With her marriage to Dastan she knew that Tus would not dare to start a war between them. Not anymore. Tamina looked up and locked her eyes with Tus's.

"Your spies are good," she said, "but unless you wish for every one of them with even a spark of ambition to vye for your throne, what I am about to tell you will not be shared."

Tus nodded. Tamina looked over at Garsiv but the Prince seemed to share her opinion that the story was not his to tell. It was not hers either but Dastan could not reveal what had not come to pass. Tamina turned to Tus, wishing she felt afraid or worried or even angry instead of just numb.

"A month and two days ago you lay on the floor of a room in this palace with your throat slit," she said, "Garsiv was dead by the Hassansins, Bis by the palace guards, your father by a robe laced with acid to burn his skin. Hours later I fell to my death in the chamber those tunnels lead to and your uncle stood poised to take the throne for himself."

Tus stared at her, his features naked with shock. Tamina looked at him calmly, waiting for him to say something. He did not. His eyes did not go to Garsiv's for confirmation of the words she had just spoken. His lips did not part in anger or disbelief. He just looked at her. Tamina half wished he would interupt, a fight would do her some good she thought. But the rest of her knew she was too weary to even retort to the future King. When Tus continued to be silent, Tamina spoke again.

Like Dastan had told her and Garsiv, she related the tale to Tus. She was too tired to pick and choose what had happened. She shared everything from her own apparent capture and the marraige they had nearly entered to when she and Dastan had found their way to the Valley of the Slaves. She told him how Dastan had plunged the Dagger into his own chest, betting that Tus would do what he had to to save him. She even told him of how Dastan had been sure it was him who was the traitor, though Garsiv's sharp inhale made her wonder if that was the right choice. Throughout her story Tus remained silent, the shocked expression on his face fading to one of neutrality. One that Tamina recognized well, one that she too had learned to wear in all times of uncertainity. When she was finished, Tus was silent. Garsiv seemed to know better than to break the silence. No-one spoke until Tus did.

"So though you are the Guardian of the Dagger, you do not remember what occured?"

"No," Tamina said, "only the holder of the Dagger is aware of the time they have turned back."

"Why?"

"It is the price they pay," Tamina said, reciting the words she had been told as a girl, "when they choose to change the course of time, the time they changed becomes their burden to carry," she thought of Dastan's nightmare filled month, "it is a heavy burden."

"Dastan did all of this and he said nothing to us?" Tus asked looking at Garsiv who nodded as much as his throbbing head would allow.

"She was the one he told it to," the younger Prince supplied.

"When?"

"The night before we were to be wed," Tamina said.

Neither brother commented on the fact that she had still married him after being told such information, for which Tamina was greatful. She had her own doubts and fears when it came to her feelings for her husband, she did not need to hear them from his brothers. Tus remained silent, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Tamina could not have said what it was that he thought on. She wished that she had seen Garsiv's reaction to the news, so she would have known how to take Tus's silence. Of the brothers, she knew the least about him. Finally Tus exhaled, a hand touching his temple in the greatest show of weakness Tamina sensed she would get from her brother-in-law.

"Your tale is a strange one," Tus said, "I am inclined not to believe it," Tamina and Garsiv opened their mouths, "however," the future King continued, "it explains why the guards I stationed outside of Dastan's room have heard such strange things."

"You knew?" Garsiv demanded, "you knew what he was shouting about at night?"

"We have all taken notice of Dastan's strange behavior," Tus said, "and given what had happened with our Uncle, there was more than enough reason for his behavior."

Tus looked over to see the woman from earlier, who had brought them to Dastan's room. Her eyes were on the ground in deference, her hands by her sides. The gold bangles and silver ankle chain were in place, the hood of her robe pulled over her hair. Like before she waited silently, patiently for them to finish their conversation and notice her. Like before, Tus hoped she brought good news on Dastan's condition. Gracefully Tamina rose to her feet. As though the woman had been given some signal, her eyes rose to Taminas.

"This is Sahar," Tamina said, "a guardian of the Temple here in Alamut."

The woman, Sahar, bowed to both of the Princes before turning to her Princess.

"The healers have put Prince Dastan back to sleep," she said, "they hope to relax him enough to ease his way through the antidote."

"Can I see him?" Tamina questioned.

Sahar noddded. Tamina turned to look at Garsiv and Tus. The brothers looked back at her. There were no words between them but words were not necessary. Tus made no move to stop her and Garsiv even seemed to nod his consent to her going to Dastan. Tamina turned and looked at Sahar who walked over to the door, opening it for her. They were silent as they walked the short distance to Dastan's room. Sahar stopped outside of the door, turning to face Tamina. Tamina looked at Sahar.

"How is the other man, Seso?" she asked.

"His passage was the least painful," Sahar said, "he surprised the healers with how easy it was."

Tamina nodded but she could not get the words of thanks past her throat. Instead she walked forward into the room. Dastan lay on the bed, unconscious once more. The smell of incense was overwhelmed by the stink of herbs, herbs that she knew had brought him back to this state once more. She knew he was less in pain like this but she could not help but feel as if he had taken a step backwards. And a step back was one step closer to death. Softly Tamina reached out, touching the back of his clammy hand with her fingertips. His skin felt damp and she knew they had wiped him down with the cool cloths, once more hoping that the fever that ailed him would be gone. Raising her eyes she looked at the Persian healer who stood there.

"Is it working?" she asked him.

"Yes, Your Highness," he said. Tamina fixed him with a look, too tired to entertain the pretty lies he would spin, "but with the time it took him to get here and the dose he received, it is a hard journey back to recovery."

"But he will recover?" Tamina asked, searching the healer's face for answers.

"We will do everything to help him," he said.

Tamina closed her mouth, her lips pressing together. No straight answers from healers, it seemed that Persia and Alamut shared that at least. But no straight answers meant that they were not sure Dastan would survive this. Tamina looked at his ravaged body. He looked worse now than he had before his brief moments of wakefulness. Tamina's hand tightened on his, her eyes searching him for any signs of returning to consciousness. But if he did only to be caught in the throwes of agony once more-then it was better that he stay asleep. At least for now. Tamina watched the shallow rise and fall of his chest, feeling almost hypnotized by it.

"If I may, Your Highness," the healer said, "you should rest as well."

"I am fine," Tamina said.

"Yes but when the Prince awakens, he will need you."

Tamina looked from the healer to Dastan's sleeping face. She was fine now but it was by the skin of her teeth. One rough word, one more shriek, one more blow and she knew she might very well fall to pieces. She could not do that, not if-_when_-Dastan awoke. She had a very strong feeling the Lion of Persia did not take well to being forced to lay still. Even if his body demanded rest. She closed her eyes shut, loathing how heavy her head felt. The healer was right. Dastan would need all of their strength. Alamut needed her as well. And if Dastan woke to agony, she would be only in the way sitting there. As she rose to her feet, Tamina felt sickened by her own uselessness.

Sahar stood outside the door, her hands folded neatly in front of her. She needed no order to fall into step behind Tamina as they made their way down the hallway.

"I want the guard around the Hassansin doubled," Tamina said, looking at Sahar who nodded, "any healers they suspect of showing loyalty by killing him are to be removed from his care. No harm is to come to him, do you understand?"

"Yes, Princess," Sahar said, her gaze sharp.

"Summon the guardians of the Temple and the High Council," Tamina continued, "I will speak to them tomorrow, the guardians first."

Sahar nodded as they came to a stop outside the doorway to her rooms.

"Dastan is a guardian of the Dagger now," Tamina said, seeing the flicker of surprise in Sahar's eyes despite the woman quickly smothering it, "someone must watch over him at all times."

"I will, Princess," Sahar said, hearing what Tamina meant rather than what she spoke, "I will come for you if anything changes in his condition."

Tamina nodded before moving to the door and slowly stepping into the rooms that she should have shared with Dastan.

It had been cleaned since their would-be wedding night, turned from fairy tale perfect into a room where the rulers of Alamut would seek refuge from the world. Almost desperately she wished she could return to her own rooms, the smaller ones where she had been dressed. But they were being used for their guests. These were her rooms now. Hers and her husband's. Pushing herself forward, Tamina undid the ties of the robe she wore. She pushed it off her shoulders and down her back, letting the fabric slide off her hips and pool on the ground. Her entire body felt sore, as if every inch of her had been bruised. But worse than that was the bone deep exhaustion that tugged at her.

The room had been designed to make even the Prince feel at him. The belongings Dastan had brought with him to Alamut were scattered about the room. Everything looked as if had been used, despite the obvious polish to it. Dastan was not one to waste anything or get rid of something before its time. Even though he was not there Tamina felt his presence in the room. She was exhausted, too tired to succumb to weeping and too numb to even feel the tears that slipped down her cheeks. She barely had it in her to stagger over to the bed. Vaguely she could remember wondering if she would ever be able to sleep without the smell of him surrounding her. As it was she barely had it in her to pulled the sheets over her head, much less put together a thought about the matter.

She was asleep before she could even wish his arms were around her.

Hours later she was awoken by a gentle touch to her shoulder.

"Forgive me, Princess," Sahar spoke softly, "but there is a man here. He refuses to speak to anyone but you."

"Who is he?" Tamina asked.

"He claimed to be a Sheik. Sheik Amar," Sahar said, "your husband woke once, early in the morning, but the healers felt it necessary to put him to sleep once more."

Dastan was alive. Tamina exhaled before the first words out of Sahar's mouth came back to her. Her eyes widened. Quickly she got to her feet, pulling the sheet around her and heading for the robe she had discarded earlier, only to find it was gone. She looked back at Sahar who held a fresh robe. Moving towards the guardian, Tamina dressed as quickly as she could, shaking off the last of sleeplessness. Sahar led her down the hall to where the the Sheik was waiting. Sure enough when she got there Amar was beside himself. Tamina heard Sahar open her mouth to speak but the Sheik was not one to stand on introductions.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to find an Ngbaka and save his life?" Amar demanded looking at Tamina, "and now he's poisoned? By a Hassansin? You know when I last paid taxes the Hassansins were legal? Legal I tell you! I am not paying some secret government organization to kill my friend and as sure as Ostriches are fast, I am not going through the trouble of finding another Ngbaka!"

At the Sheik's hysteria, Tamina had to fight down a smile. Sahar lightly cleared her throat. Tamina leaned towards the guardian who whispered her message. Tamina looked at Amar.

"Seso is sleeping off the last of the antidote for the poison," Tamina said, "would you like to see him?"

Amar raised an eyebrow clearly surprised that she had offered such a thing before giving a nod.

"Yes, yes I'd better," he said, though from the soft, gruff tone of his voice Tamina knew she had caught him off guard with her offer, "but I don't trust you Persians," he said, suddenly threatening before he turned to the men standing behind him, "bring the Hag here!"

The men hurried out of the room. Tamina looked at him desperately. The old woman who had saved her life, who had cured a bite that most healers would have given her a death sentance from, she was there? Either that or Amar had another old woman who took the abuse of being called hag. But moments later the men returned carrying a litter bearing the slight weight of the old woman. Only one of her assistants seemed to have accompanied her, the younger woman dressed in the same ornate, mismatched clothing as the old woman.

"I like this being carried buisiness," the woman said, flashing the Sheik a toothless grin, "you should be bowing to me now."

"Its been years since you bowed to anyone!" Amar said.

"Sahar," Tamina turned to the woman who was barely concealing her horror at the dirty, noisy people in the hall, "take them to Seso, I will accompany the Sheik."

Sahar gave an uneasy nod and turned to walk down the hallway, leading the rukus away. Tamina turned back to the Sheik. Amar may have been anxious about his Ngbaka friend, but he could see the wory on Tamina's features and knew she had sent the others ahead to give them a moment of privacy. Amar's usual humor which had been clouded by anger was gone all together. If he had known about the Hassansins he knew Dastan had been attacked. And if he had not, Tamina knew the worry on her face would give it away entirely.

"Dastan was injured as well," Tamina said. Amar nodded as though he knew, "the healers gave him the antidote to the poison but there was too much and it took us too long to get back," Tamina fought the wobble in her voice, "can your she take a look at him?"

"Of course," Amar said, "how bad is he, can she look at Seso first or do you want her to see him straight away?"

"Can he?" she asked, hope flooding her.

"Zamir!" he shouted to one of the men, his voice echoing down the silent hallway and stopping the group ahead, "bring that bag of bones to the Prince! Apparently he's in worse of it than Seso," he lowered his voice, "not that i'm surprised, mind you, those Ngbaka are hard to kill. Did I tell you that I once saw Seso take out a rhino with two blades? Two! Got him right in the eyes."

Tamina let his familiar outlandish words wash over her.

"By the way," Amar said lowering his voice, "my hag there can do a little something extra for him, if you know what I mean. Since you did run off so fast last time, I imagine he's not all right down there. She can fix that too-"

"That's very kind of you," Tamina said, fighting the urge to blush at the memory of that night, "but that will not be necessary."

"Alright, alright," Amar said, "if its not that then would you mind settling a disagreement between myself and some valued friends?" Tamina nodded, "why did you leave him in sucha tizzy, running around the Valley in a bedsheet?"

For the first time in a day Tamina's temper flared.

"You turned my wedding night into a betting opportunity?"

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**I know I know you all are clawing for some D/T. Don't worry, its coming. in fact i'm gonna hit you over the head with so much D/T love that you're gonna beg for it to stop!**

**But hey look at this. Now everyone knows what's going on, Tamina's getting along with the bros, Seso's okay AND Amar's there with his hag. So Yay! Dastan's got a less confusing world going on around him, not that he's up to par. **

**Okay guys, bad news time. See I've got plans this weekend and where I am that means on Sat. I'll be driving for 4 hours and on Sunday the same. Now I'm gonna do my best to update but the schedule might be a little wonky. So I'm really sorry and I hope you'll forgive me if I miss a day.**

**But with any luck it won't come to that and we can keep going!  
**

**So please review! **


	19. Chapter 19

**Okay people brace yourselves. **

**Tomorrow might be the day when there is no update!**

**I know I know, it breaks my heart too. But Enchantable's got real stuff to do. And while this fic's not done yet, it will be in the next two weeks because, as I said, Echanty's starting her Arabic lessons. But don't worry, I'm not ending it when Dastan wakes up and they get all adorable. We've still got the Hassansin to deal with, the fact that King Sharaman's kinda upset/MIA and the effects of the guardians being slaughtered. Aka we've had Dastan/Tamina falling in love, now they're gonna have to deal with being in love. Woot woot! Promise it won't get boring though. We've got some cool shit coming up. **

**Bang up job in the review department as always. I thank you for it! And here's the update. I'm going to be late but I just couldn't leave you hanging! **

**Enjoy the chapter! **

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Sitting in the room with the old woman, Tamina fought the urge to break the silence.

Tamina anxiously watched the old woman's face as she leaned over Dastan's prone form. She seemed perfectly at ease there, as if leaning over half dead Prince's was something that she did on a daily basis. Her young assistant sat beside her, looking at the woman and waiting for orders. Tamina's eyes dragged from the old woman to Dastan. The daylight only made him look worse, his pale skin painted in the harsh gold light. His eyes were closed and she could see them moving under his lids. If he was torn apart by nightmares he did not show it though some part of her deep inside wished that he would bolt upright in bed and scream her name once more.

"Delicate desert flower," the old woman sniffed looking at him with disgust, "miracle he's made it as long as he has," she looked over at her assistant, "get me the vials. This boy needs to be awake."

"But-" Tamina began, though whether she was protesting the woman calling Dastan delicate or the fact she wanted to wake him, she did not know.

"If you're going to second guess me girl, you'll have to wait outside like I made him," the old woman said nodding to Dastan, "young lovers are nothing but trouble. Always whining for salvation and getting in the way of those who try to give it."

Tamina pressed her lips together, shutting up as the young woman returned with a cloth bag, the contents rattling as she set it down. Without looking the old woman stuck her hand in the bag and picked out three vials. Liquid filled, the glass of the bottles were brightly colored in red, blue and yellow. Gripping the cork with what few teeth she had left, the old woman opened the yellow vial and tipped it down Dastan's throat. The blue vial followed it and finally the red. Tamina swallowed thickly, fighting to push the memories of Dastan's earlier agony aside. Surely the old woman would not wake him to such agony.

Tamina anxiously searched his face, looking at the slackened features of her husband. He did not tense in agony, his head did not turn into the pillows to muffle his screams. None of the agony that had marked his earlier return to consciousness. But his body did not tense, his muscles did not move. He just lay there, dead to the world. What if the old woman's remedy did not work? What if the Hassansin's antidote had not been enough to save him? Gods, Tamina wished that she was exhausted so that all she could do was stare numbly at the man laying in front of her rather than focusing on how pale and serene he looked.

She watched as Dastan's features tightened before they slackened once more, his face smoothing out. But his eyes stopped darting back and forth. Tamina's breath caught in her throat as she looked down at him, bracing herself for the inevitable screaming and twisting that had accompanied his last journey to consciousness. She saw his eyes move, his dark lashes slowly pulling away from the skin. Tamina bit the inside of her cheek, watching as his blue eyes slowly opened. For a moment they looked blank, his face as empty as it had been when he lay there unconscious. His eyes closed once more before they opened again, widening as they locked on the ceiling.

"Now I know you're wondering why you can't move," the old hag said, "but that's because I've given you something to help you relax. You couldn't grip something if your life depended on it," she added with a harsh laugh as though the situation was somehow amusing, "but I need you awake, you delicate desert bloom."

"You stopped him from moving?" Tamina demanded, unable to stop herself from shouting, "how does that solve anything?"

"That poison he's been given is making his muscles spasm. This keeps them from doing that. He's not in pain, he's just confused."

Tamina knew her mouth hung open, horrified as she stared at the old woman. She had asked her to ease Dastan's passage, not to wake him just so that he could not move. Tamina looked from the old woman to Dastan, her eyes meeting his blue ones. His eyes were wide, blank even as he looked at them, seemingly unable to figure out what was happening to his body. She looked back at the old woman.

"Can he feel anything?" Tamina asked.

"No," the old woman said, "but that's probably the most unsettling thing of all, eh? Go from that much pain to feeling nothing at all."

"Gods," Tamina swore, closing her eyes before opening them again.

That old woman glared at her, as though she knew exactly where Tamina's swear had been directed.

"Listen here, girl," the old woman said, "I kicked him out when it was you because he was useless. I kept you in here because you might be of some use yet," Tamina looked at her, "well? Talk to him. I need him calm."

Tamina opened and closed her mouth before turning to look at Dastan. The rseand fall of his chest was quick and shallow. He was fighting against the sensation-less feeling in his body, but Dastan's strength was once more useless in this fight. Tamina reached out and covered his hand with her own. Dastan's eyes moved in her direction. Tamina fought down the feeling of panic as she looked at him. His eyes were so _empty_. It was as if Dastan was not there. Like he was awake but still not there, as though he was still in the throws of the poison. Tamina forced her eyes to remain on his, fighting down the desire to look away.

Gods, what if he did not come back? What if this was how he would be for the ret of his life? Just, blank? Had this been how he felt when he looked at her and she did not know what they had shared? Had it been this torturous for him? Tamina opened her mouth to try and speak but nothing came out from her lips. Words failed her. They had never failed her, not like this. With his frightened, blank eyes and pale skin, he looked impossibly young. Nothing like the warrior that she had come to know. Nothing like the man who had saved them all.

"Dastan," she forced his name from her tight throat, "its alright," she said, "you're safe now. We are back in Alamut," she continued, focusing on the facts, "everyone is safe. In fact," she tried to force her lips into a smile, "I imagine Garsiv is planning all kinds of revenge on you for stealing Aksh a third time from him."

His eyes remained on hers, so Tamina pressed on.

"Seso is here too, and Sheik Amar. It seems that he has turned our wedding night into a gambling opportunity for his customers. I suppose the sight of you in a bedsheet was upsetting to the ostriches," she smiled weakly, "I spoke to Tus as well. So there's that. And I suppose I should tell you that I spoke to the Hassansin as well," something flickered in his eyes, "Bis tried to stop me but you know how stubborn I can be," she continued, "and you are more than welcome to yell at me but without me, you would all be dead."

The old woman fussed over something for a moment before the other woman handed her yet another vial, this one of blown black glass. The woman uncapped it with her teeth and moved forward, her gnarled hand grasping Dastan's jaw. Easing his mouth open, the old woman tilted the liquid down his throat as the other woman's younger hands reached up and massaged Dastan's throat, making sure that he swallowed it down. Tamina kept her mouth shut as she looked at the pair of them, trying to see what the latest of the concoctions would do to her husband.

Underneath her hand she felt Dastan's fingers move.

Tamina's eyes widened as her eyes flew back to his face. It was not a lot of movement. Fear and pain and fever still overshadowed any emotion in his gaze, but it was something. Something that filled her with wild hope and made her breath catch in her throat. The old woman nodded to the younger one who quickly pulled the basin sitting behind her forward. Tamina's fingers tensed on Dastan's hand as she looked at the women. They were expecting him to do something, something Tamina could only hope did not involve writhing on the bed screaming. Dastan's eyes closed for a moment.

Then, with what Tamina was sure was all the strength in his jellied muscles, Dastan turned himself over and heaved into the ready basin.

Tamina let out a shaky breath, a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh catching in her throat. With a low groan, Dastan rolled back onto the bed, his chest loosing its steady rhythm as his body resumed working. He was still pale as death, weak with fever and pain, but he was alive. Alive and from the swear that escaped his cracked lips, still very much himself. Tamina's eyes flew open as she looked at him. Under the glazed look in his eyes she could see that he was there. That the spark that made him Dastan was still there.

"Did I die?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Gods, don't say things like that!" Tamina cried, her fingers tightening on his.

"You, girl," the old hag looked at Tamina, "keep him drinking, keep him cool. Send for me if you need me. Now where are those boys with my litter. I've got an Ngbaka to look at."

Tamina could not get her throat to work enough to thank the woman who had brought Dastan back. The old hag moved quickly and was soon gone. Tamina shook herself before looking back at Dastan. But one look at the familiar expression on his face threatened to send her into tears all over again. The memory of him yelling, of his body twisting in agony was too clear, too fresh. Exhaling shakily, Tamina forced her tears back, looking at Dastan again. Even though he was the one laying on the bed, his eyes still shadowed when he saw her expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What-" Tamina sucked in her breath, "what's wrong? You almost died! You still might die! You look as though you are one breath from death itself! What do you mean 'what's wrong'?"

"I promise you I'm fine," Dastan said, his voice slowly strengthening. Tamina opened her mouth, "but not if you continue to yell."

"Oh, oh Gods," Tamina pressed her lips together, "i did not mean-"

"Give me a day or so," he said, "you can yell all you want."

Tamina still looked close to tears and even in his fogged state, Dastan felt oddly guilty. He was aware enough to know that any emotion he felt was good. His entire body felt hot and cold at the same time, as if it was as confused as the rest of him. The last thing that he could clearly remember was throwing himself in front of Garsiv, using every ounce of skill he possessed to make sure that the darts that struck him did not hit anything vital. From the putrid smell in the room and the fact that his body truly felt as though it had been trampled by a vengeful Aksh, Dastan knew he had succeeded. And if the price for pulling off that miracle was for him to be laying on a bed in Alamut feeling miserable while Tamina held his hand, well then, Dastan could think of higher prices to pay.

"Did you say that Garsiv was alright?" Dastan asked, forcing his throat to work though speaking felt like choking on glass.

"Yes," Tamina said, realizing that her words had not reached him before, "He was awake for most of it but he is recovering well."

"Plotting revenge I'm sure," Dastan said with a low groan. Tamina's eyes widened, looking almost frantic as if she did not know what to do, "never tended to a sick man have you?"

"No," she shook her head, seeming at once to be younger and unsure of herself.

Dastan knew she had not taken care of a sick man before. Why would she? Princess's rarely took care of soldiers. But even as she looked unsure of what to do, he saw resolve shine in her kohl lined eyes. The vague thoughts he had of sending her to get Tus or Bis to be there instead vanished. He knew she would not leave his side, not now. Even if she had never cared for a sick man before. Gathering what shreds of his humor he had, Dastan looked at her.

"You'll have to get used to it I'm afraid," Dastan said, "your husband has a talent for getting himself into trouble."

Tamina looked around, her eyes finding the water pitcher that stood nearby. Getting to her feet she walked over to it on legs made weak with relief. Filling the cup she walked back to where Dastan lay, sitting down and turning towards him. Helplessness threatened her as she looked at him. Tus had poured the water down Garsiv's throat, but Garsiv had made it clear he did not like to be treated like a child. Was Dastan the same way? There was only one way to find out. Tamina reached forward carefully, angling the cup so that the water slipped down Dastan's throat.

It burned as though she was pouring acid down his throat but Dastan forced the jellied muscles to work. He knew he had been screaming. He couldn't remember the last time an injury had reduced him to screaming. The last time he had cried out was when the healers had to set both his arms and his hip back into place. And even then it had been a single shout as they wretched his right hip back into place. The fire in his throat made it clear that he had screamed and quite a lot as well, but all of it was lost to his mind.

"Thank you," he said, hoping that his voice was steady.

"Stop it," Tamina said, her eyes hard. Dastan looked at her, "you aren't fooling me acting so brave," she continued, "I was there, the first time they woke you, I saw what that poison did to you-" she cut herself off with a sharp breath, her finger tightening in the folds of her robe, "I may not be well practiced in the art of tending to the sick but I can at least tell when you're lying."

Dastan looked at her silently for a moment.

"Your bedside manner could use some work," he said finally.

Tamina opened and closed her mouth several times in rage. He was making fun of her, he was _mocking_ her. Her mind went back to that first day when they had stood by the fountain. Disbelief surged through her at the knowledge that she had known him such a short time. He had said he looked forward to the day when they knew each other well enough to make fun of each other and tough Tamina knew they had been verbally sparring throughout their adventure, it still surprised her that he was able to so seamlessly elicit a reaction from her. For the first time in two days she felt as though she was truly awake.

"I should be the one trying to make you feel better," she said finally looking down at her hands.

"I was unconscious for most of it," Dastan said, his expression softening, "the helplessness is the worst."

Tamina looked up at him hesitantly before nodding her agreement with his words. Dastan knew it was the worst part of it. Not the fighting, not the being hurt but not being able to do anything, that was the part that tortured people. If he had not gotten to Garsiv in time, if he had once again had to stand there and watch as the light in his brother's eyes faded, Dastan knew he would have gone truly mad. Tamina had to watch him struggle with the agony. Though Dastan knew he had done everything in him to fight showing signs of pain, from the hollow expression on her face he knew he had not been successful.

Anger pricked at him. Why hadn't Tus or Bis stopped her from being in there? He knew how stubborn she could be but surely one of them had seen that Tamina watching him writher in agony was not good for either of them. The old hag who had saved Tamina's life had seen fit to keep her there but Dastan was fairly certain his reaction to her concoctions had been tame. He tried to get his fingers to move, to get his hand to touch hers but the limb remained limply by his side. He could feel it, it just was limp with exhaustion. He had been awake for barely an hour and he was already disgusted with his own weakness.

There was a soft knock on the door. Tamina turned her head to the window and swore softly, pushing herself to her feet and walking over to the doorway, opening it to let a guardian inside. Dressed in a less ornate version of Tamina's prayer robe, Dastan's eyes could easily pick out that the woman standing there was a guardian of the Dagger, just as all those people who had been slaughtered were.

"The guardians and the High Council are ready for you, Princess."

Dastan turned his focus from their words to his sore body. Tamina had her duties as a Guardian, he had his as a Prince. The difference was that she could do hers, he was helpless. He looked down at his sheet covered legs, hating the shivers that raced over his skin. If he stayed limp for much longer he knew his brother's were going to have a field day with it. Dastan raised his eyes as two shadows fell over his bed. He looked over to see Tamina and the woman from the doorway. Trying not to feel as pathetic as he was sure he looked, Dastan met the woman's gaze.

"Dastan," Tamina said, "this is Sahar," she said, "she is a guardian of the Temple," she looked at Sahar, "you have seen each other before, I am sure."

Sahar nodded her head, her eyes not leaving Dastan's. Dastan had seen the woman before around the palace but he had not met any of the other guardians. As Tamina had said, her husband was not supposed to know as much of the Dagger as he did. If Sahar had opinions on his knowledge-or if she knew what he had done at all-she said nothing on the subject. She just looked at him, much in the manner Tamina sometimes did. At the times when he had done something she considered particularly displeasing. Vaguely he wondered if learning to look at someone like that was part of the training the guardians underwent. In between learning to pray and learning to braid crystals into their hair.

"I will inform the guardians and the Council," Sahar said finally, breaking her gaze with Dastan and looking at Tamina before leaving the room.

Dastan waited for Tamina to sit back down beside him before he spoke to her again.

"What is she going to inform the High Council about?" he asked.

"They need to be told what is going on," Tamina said, "but it will have to wait."

"All of it?" Dastan asked.

"Yes," she said, "including your use of the Dagger," she looked at her hands again, "I was hoping to speak to them before you awoke and put their minds at ease," she continued, "but another day not knowing will not hurt them."

"But-"

"No," Tamina looked at him, her eyes flashing as though to dare him to challenge her decision, "I will not speak to them when you have only just woken up."

Dastan looked at her, silent for a moment, both painfully aware of the fact that Tamina had put him before her duty with the Dagger. But the idea of such a conversation taking place now, seemed unfathomable to the both of them. Dastan felt sleep tug at him and Tamina still looked as if the smallest thing would shatter her composure. Skillfully Dastan changed the conversation.

"I still need to tell Tus what happened," Dastan said.

"No," Tamina replied.

"Tamina-" Dastan began.

"You do not need to tell him," Tamina said raising her eyes to his, "because I have."

"You what?" Dastan questioned, his arm tensing against the bed as though to push himself up, "when?"

"After you awoke," Tamina said, "he took me from the room and we returned to Garsiv's. After we rode off he had Persian spies in Alamut and he found the entrances to the tunnels below the city. He guessed that there was a treasure hidden there that was great enough to make your Uncle King."

"He believed you?" Dastan asked.

"Yes," Tamina said with a nod, "he took the news quite well."

Dastan swore, shaking his head. If Garsiv had taken the news so easily then of course Tus would as well. Only he could get himself adopted by a family that took life altering information as though it was nothing more than a change in the weather. He had a suspicion that Bis would react the way he did but he would have at least expected something more dramatic from his brothers. He looked at Tamina whose eyes were on his face, trying to judge if he was angry she had gone ahead and told Tus the truth before he could.

"I do not understand how they can take this so calmly," Dastan said darkly, "you ran from the gardens in tears."

"I did not!" Tamina protested, though she knew it was true, "perhaps your brothers are used to hearing outlandish tales."

"Perhaps," Dastan agreed, feeling his eyelids grow even heavier, "its good to know my entire family is just as mad."

He must have drifted off. When Dastan opened his eyes again, he could feel clean sheets underneath him as well as a heavy blanket covering his body. Opening his eyes, he discovered that it was closer to sunset and Tamina had been joined by Tus. They were speaking in low tones, looking perfectly like the future allied rulers they were. Tamina's eyes moved over to him before she looked back at Tus, tilting her head in Dastan's direction. Tus quickly got to his feet and walked over to Dastan. When he tried to push himself up, Dastan was relieved to see he could at least move his hands now, even if the simple motions made his body sear with pain.

"Its good to see you awake, Dastan," Tus said, "you had us worried for a moment there."

"Surely you have more faith in me than that," Dastan said.

"Of course," Tus said but the sleepless look in his eyes spoke differently, "and I am so used to the yelling between you and Garsiv, I barely noticed anything at all," Dastan gave a half hearted glare, "its a wonder I haven't gone deaf from you two yet."

"Give it time," Dastan said.

Tus smiled but the relief in his face did little to make Dastan feel better. Garsiv was alright, Tamina had told him that and she had no reason to lie, but the road to recovery had not been smooth for his older brother. Dastan looked down before looking back at his brother.

"About the Dagger-"

"Its alright, I know," Tus said.

"But I-"

"Save your explanations," Tus said, "I do not need to know everything now and your strength is better spent recovering from this latest brush with the afterlife."

"How is everyone taking this so calmly?" Dastan demanded.

"Oh I imagine we will all have plenty to yell at you about later," Tus said, his tone heavy with affection, "for now, rest. Recover your strength," he looked over at Tamina who stood against the wall, giving them some privacy, "especially if you are going to only have one wife."

Garsiv had told Tus.

"He told you," Dastan accused.

"I'm afraid so," Tus said.

"That-" Dastan glared, "I take it back," he said, moving for the bed sheets, "I am going to kill him myself-"

Tus threw back his head and laughed, but his hands were quick and steady as he eased Dastan back on the bed sheets.

"Not tonight," he said, "tonight you rest. In the morning you two can hobble towards each other menacingly," his eyes danced as he looked at him, "who knows, perhaps by morning you'll have the strength to swat at each other."

"That was one time!" Dastan protested as loudly as he could.

He and his brother had been fighting and wound up getting their hands covered in a plant that caused itching red welts to appear on their skin. Their hands had been numbed with salve and bandaged and though one would think the lesson would be learned neither had been willing to let the fight go. The moment the healers stepped back both immediately began to swat at each other as best they could. Tus had been too caught up in laughter to even reprimand them properly.

"First of many, I am sure," Tus said, "soon you two will be old men hitting each other with canes while I do my best to look stern."

"It rarely works."

Tus laughed once more.

"I will see you in the morning, little brother," he looked over at Tamina, "goodnight, Princess."

After he left, Dastan fell back on the bed with a groan as Tus shut the door, his laughter lingering in the air. Tamina came over to him, amusement bright in her eyes as she crossed the room. Dastan looked over at her, letting out a dramatic sigh that only made her smile widen further. Whatever had transpired between her and his brothers seemed to have undone any hard feelings between the three of them, something for which Dastan was immensely grateful. Tamina said down on the bed, close enough for the curve of her thigh to gently touch his side.

"You should get rest," Dastan said, "I think I'll be able to survive the night," he looked at her, "unless your faith in me is gone as well?"

"Never," Tamina said with a smile, "or," she said, "not yet at least."

"Touching," Dastan returned evenly.

Tamina smiled and shook her head at his dry humor. She looked down the length of his body, her eyes taking in how he lay. She knew he was sore all over but with a little bit of positioning she knew she could make their situation work. Mindful of her own injuries, she slid underneath the sheets and slowly eased her body against his. Dastan was silent as she moved against him, each touch butterfly light until her body settled warmly against his side, his arm easily fitting against her neck as her head settled on one of the pillows.

"You should be in your own bed," he said.

"Don't be silly," Tamina admonished, "you did this for me when I was bitten by that snake," she pointed out.

"You probably smelled a lot better than I do," he said.

"And looked better as well," Tamina returned, "before you could not wait to keep me in your bed and now you are throwing me out," she reached up and touched her hand to his much cooler forehead, "I think you must have gone mad."

Dastan smiled at her humor, or rather he tried to. Even their banter though seemed strained. He could still see the worry and exhaustion in her face, just as he knew she could see the strain and the effects of the poison on his. His head spun with the idea that so much had happened in three days. Three days and a lifetime. There was so much that still needed to be explained and said and done that it made his head spin faster.

"Tamina-" he began.

"Dastan," Tamina cut in gently, her eyes meeting his, "rest," she said to him, "I know there is-" she stopped herself, her eyes meeting his, "rest," she repeated firmly, "everything will still be here when you wake."

Letting her promise wash over him, Dastan chose to let his eyes close and allow sleep to take him once more.

* * *

**Okay kids, now comes the hard part. **

**I'm sorry about the delay in updating but there is a good chance for the next 24 hours there's going to be no new chapter. I know, I know, I'm sad about it too but I promise we'll get through it together. Then we've got more Amar, more Seso, and we finally have the name of the Hassansin (and I'll tell you the funny story of how I found it out). All that after Dastan and Tamina have a little chitchat and we have some more good ol'bro love. Just wait until Garsiv gets his hands on Dastan. **

**I'll see you in a day!  
**

**Please review! **


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey all, did you miss me? Because I missed you!**

**Again though, please PLEASE don't respond to other reviewers in your review and not in an insulting way. I hate to delete reviews but I really don't want this place turned into an argument zone, especially not for the few people who try to make it that way. Thank you all for coming to my defense and giving me a warm snuggly feeling inside.** **For better or worse, I have been dealing with flamers from my first story and flames like our latest, appropriately named one, are just one of the pitfalls of enabling anonymous reviews. I know people don't always have accounts here but I love hearing from you guys so I keep anonymous reviews enabled. Out of the hundreds I get, only a few are from morons and I don't want a few bad apples to spoil the party for everyone. I just wish that every idiot who flamed me reminded me that I am a great writer with incredible fans whose won multiple awards. It would make that nanosecond of "aww I hate being flamed" pass a lot quicker into the laughter that follows. **

**Other anonymous reviewers, Animefreak, I'm tossing a few ideas around for a Scarlet Sequel but nothing's concrete yet. But the fic seems to be more popular than I thought! It took 2nd place in the UFO awards! Amber, thank you for the kind words. I will be posting the wedding night soon. **

**Now back to the story!**

* * *

It hurt to wake up.

Unsurprising as the knowledge was, Dastan still found it annoying when his body betrayed him. His entire body felt as though he had been soundly beaten and he could feel the remnants of a fever pulsing through him. His forearm from where he had caught the Hassansin's whip was particularly painful, but Dastan felt grateful for that. Feeling in his hand meant that he had not damaged anything too vital. His fingers could move, though the action of doing so seared agony up his limb. Even with the soreness though, he was aware of the fact that there was nothing laying on his body. He was alone in the bed, only the knowledge that the Dagger was safe and they were in Alamut kept him from worrying about his wife. Slowly Dastan forced his foggy eyes open, blinking a few times to clear them of the last remnants of sleep.

His eyes moved over the sun drenched room. Apparently deciding he was no longer going to die had inspired the healers to open the windows of the room. Outside Dastan could hear the sounds of the garden and the trickles of the fountain. The smell of the Alamut palace, of silks and perfume and sun, filled his nose, though his own stink and the smell of herbs still staining his skin dampened the effect. He looked out at the window, trying to orient himself. He knew he was on a lower floor of the palace, probably close to the servant's courtyard but for the life of him he could not place himself properly. Not moving, not orienting-even with the weakness of the fever clawing at him he still felt the beginnings of frustration. Datan _hated_ being laid up.

"Awake are you, you delicate desert bloom?"

Dastan's eyes widened, his head turning automatically towards the voice. White hot agony seared up his neck, as though someone had taken the sun itself and plunged it into his skin. Dastan squeezed his eyes shut, breathing harshly through his nose as his chest ached with abuse. He could to gasp or scream or do anything without suffering more agony. All he could do was take short, shallow breaths and pray for the pain to receed. Eventually it did, though Dastan still held himself perfectly still. The white hot pain slowly faded into a dull, burning throb. But it was manageable. Or, mangeabl enough for him to slowly open his eyes and unclench his jaw. Bis was sitting cross legged by his bed, patiently waiting for Dastan to get himself under control.

"What did you call me?" Dastan questioned hoarsly.

"A delicate desert bloom. That old woman of Sheik Amar's is calling you that-"

"Sheik Amar is here? In Alamut?" Dastan questioned, ignoring the pain in his throat.

"You have been unconscious for a while," Bis said, "Sheik Amar is here, 'protecting his investment' if you ask him and 'looking after his friend' if you ask anyone else. He brought this mean old woman with him who got you awake and made sure Seso was fine. Garsiv refused her help-which she found wildly impressive-and now she's dealing with the Hassansin."

Dastan stared at him and Bis realized what he had said. Telling Dastan people were alive was one thing, telling him that the Hassansin had survived the fight was another. One that, belatedly, Bis realized he probably should not have blurted out like he had. Horror shown on Dastan's face, too much for the Hassansin that had only been fighting Garsiv. Bis realized that by just telling Dastan it was a Hassansin, the Prince had jumped to the conclusion that it was the Hassansin that had very nearly killed them all. When Dastan opened his mouth to yell, Bis cut him off.

"No no, not the Hassansin that almost killed you all. Garsiv cut him down with a sword. This is the one with the snakes-"

"The one who almost killed Tamina?" Dastan demanded, "Bis," he looked at him, "he knows about what happened with the Dagger."

Bis stared at him, silent for a moment as though digesting the information. Knew about the Dagger and the time that had not come to pass? But that seemed impossible. He didn't know about it, not until Dastan had told him. Even Tamina had been unaware. The only person who had known what would have happened if Nizam had been allowed to continue with his plan was Dastan. His brow furrowed, a rare look of seriousness crossing Bis's face.

"That's impossible," Bis said finally, "you're the only one who knows about what happened. Isn't that the point of the whole thing? Only the holder is aware of what happened? It would be kind of pointless if everyone else knew what had already happened."

"Yes, no-" Dastan gritted his teeth, pushing himself up with his good hand as best he could, "on the battlefield, he pointed to his chest where Tamina stabbed him-"

"Tamina stabbed the Hassansin?"

"Bis," Dastan glared at him, forcing his body upwards, "he told me that death would not hurt as much as I thought."

When his arm buckled, Bis's calloused hands were suddenly at his shoulders. But unlike his brothers who had pushed him back, Bis easily steadied him before helping him sit the rst of the way up. Bis was not as protective as Tus and Garsiv, his attempts are reasoning with Dastan were halfhearted at best and usually voiced when they were already in the thick of whatever insanity Dastan had managed to get them into that day. The moment he was upright though, his stomach rolled, the urge to be sick overwhelming him. He had not sat up on his own in two days and his head made it clear that it did not appreciate the movement. Bis let him double over and with a well aimed kick sent a copper pot skidding to a halt in between Dastan's legs. The rattling was painfully loud, making his ears ring and his head throb as though he had been drunk rather than dying. Bis seemed to think the same thing.

"I haven't seen you look like this since our first battle when Garsiv got us drunk," Bis said as Dastan groaned, trying not to think of things that would make him feel more nauseous, "want me to lay you back down, you delicate desert bloom?"

"No," Dastan said, fighting the desire to lay back down.

Bis was thankfully silent as Dastan struggled with himself. The weakness was agonizing, worse even than the pain that throbbed over every inch of him. Only the knowledge of how much more it would hurt kept Dastan from giving into the urge to howl at the pain. The more injured of his arms hung limply by his side, without the support of the bed the limb tugged painfully. His other arm was hardly in a better state, but he could at least grip the fabric of his robe with that had as he fought to bring himself under control once more. Breathing through his nose he forced his hand to relax, loosening its hold on the fabric. He forced his eyes open, looking down at the copper pot between his knees. If he had anything left in his stomach, Dastan was sure he would have thrown it up and though he knew that would make the rest of him feel better, the knowlede of how much it would hurt to heave made him oddly thankful for the light headed feeling that pulsed through him.

"The Hassansin knows," Dastan repeated finally, raising his eyes to look at Bis, "he know he died, he knows what happened when Nizam's plan continued. He knows everything."

"So he died then?" Bis asked.

"In the tunnels under the city, we fought. Tamina ran him through and I pushed him off the ledge," Dastan paused, inhaling sharply before pushing himself forward, "they were all part of Nizam's plot. Probably to find me," his fingers tightened on the fabric, "the one with the darts killed Seso and Garsiv the last time."

"The one with the snakes and the scar didn't kill anyone?" Bis asked. Dastan gave a slight shake of his head, "well if Tamina killed him maybe that explains why he wanted to talk to her."

"Tamina talked to the Hassansin?" Dastan demanded. Bis nodded, "did no-one think to protect her? Or were you all too busy worrying about a sick man to care about the living?"

Bis winced at the outrage in Dastan's hoarse voice. He knew that he was going to get in loads of trouble for letting Tamina speak to the Hassansin, just as he knew he probably should have tried to keep that information from Dastan for a little longer. There would be no getting the Prince back to bed now, of that he was sure. Which probably meant he was going to have Tus, Garsiv and Tamina yelling at him as well. Not that any of them particularly scared Bis, but no man liked to be yelled at by three people, especially not for something that was decidedly out of their hands. Bis waited until he thought Dastan was slightly calmer or more weary before he spoke again.

"While we were all very worried about you, Tamina made it clear she wasn't going to sit by and watch you, Garsiv or Seso die," Bis said, "Tus went to talk to the Hassansin first, when he found nothing out Tamina went in and made him tell her the antidote for you three."

If he had it in him to shout, Dastan would have. Tamina had gone to speak to the Hassansin. She had gone and spoke to him despite knowing how dangerous he was. Worse, she had done it to save _him_. Because he had gone and gotten himself riddled through with poisonous darts. He had no doubt that the Hassansin was chained, just as he had no doubt that if he wanted Tamina dead she would be. But he had not, and he had told her the cure when he had refused to share it with Tus. That spoke volumes about the man. He would only tell the person who he knew had killed him. Even though he had been beaten the Hassansin was still playing games with them.

"Is he-"

"Still alive, I'm afraid," Bis said, "though barely from what I hear. Apparently he's been on those drugs for a very long time. Its a good thing that you and Garsiv are out of the woods because the healers are trying to work on him."

"They're saving his life," Dastan said looking at Bis who nodded, "why?"

"You'll have to ask your wife that," Bis said, "I've got no idea. I barely managed to stop Garsiv from chopping off his head."

"How did you do that?" Dastan asked weakly.

"Oh I told him that the Hassansin was the only one who could cure him and Seso-we thought you were dead at the time-so he just knocked him unconscious before running to check on you. I thought he was going to kill him, it was kind of sweet actually."

"Remind him of that when he comes to yell at me, will you?" Dastan said.

"Oh no, you're on your own when it comes to your brother," Bis said.

"Scared of Garisv?" Dastan asked.

"No, but unlike you, my friend, I don't harbor a death wish."

Dastan let out a breath, unable to glare or grin at his friend. Bis grinned, fully aware of the fact that as long as he stood between Dastan and Garsiv, he was safe from Garsiv's tirade. They both knew that Garsiv was going to scream at Dastan until he was blue in the face, especially if he had been as worried and outwardly affectionate as Bis claimed. The more affection Garsiv showed, the angrier he tended to become. Dastan half wished that he would be unconscious again. Garsiv was furious with him, he was confused and angry at Tamina, Tamina was, well, knowing Tamina Dastan had a feeling he was going to get yelled at for being stupid and heroic. It really was enough to almost make him wish that he was unconscious.

Then the door opened and Tamina walked in and he wondered if that was really the case.

The robes she wore were once against artfully draped to hide any evidence of their adventures. The white fabric left her uninjured hand, arm and shoulder bare while hiding the cut on her back before draping long enough to hide her injured hand. The henna she usually wore was re-done and his eyes could pick out gold bracelets that had been strategically placed to hide the bruises on her skin. If she was a bit more than than normal, no-one was foolish enough to say anything. There were no crystals in her hair, the black lockes falling down her back. Her eyes took in the sight of him sitting up and Bis with his hand on his shoulder steadying him. Dastan's eyes locked with her.

"Bis, get out."

Tamina did not look away from Dastan's eyes, though she spoke to Bis. The young man was clearly well aware enough of the couple's habits that he quickly decided being in the room was not a wise choice. Immediately he stood up and walked out, pausing only long enough to give Dastan an apologetic pat on the shoulder that had him doubling over once more. Tamina held herself perfectly still as Bis stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Though he still looked horrible, some of the color had returned to Dastan's face and he was sitting up in bed. She knew the longer they waited to speak, the worse the situation would become. She could not allow that to happen. Not when they had so many other things to do.

'How is the Hassansin?" Dastan asked.

"Alive," Tamina answered, trying to keep the curtness out of her tone, "though it has taken considerable skill to keep him that way."

Dastan was silent and Tamina felt the sickening feeling in her stomach grow. He was angry, that much was clear. She had known he would be, but the idea that so soon after his brush with death he was angry at her was unsettling. Her words to Bis seemed foolish now, though she did not regret what she had done. She had saved his life. Her temper began to prick at her. How many foolish things had he done to save her? Why did he get to be angry at her for doing this? For putting herself in harms way to make sure that he was alright after all the ways he had risked his neck to make sure she was safe? As she continued to look at him she felt her anger rise.

"We could not let him die," Tamina said, "not when he knew how to save you."

"So you were the one who had to go and speak to him?" Dastan questioned, the hoarseness of his voice undoing any anger that his voice held.

"He would not speak to anyone else," Tamina said, "Tus tried-"

"Bis-"

"So i was supposed to go through every person in the palace before I spoke to him?" Tamina demanded, her tone sharp, "perhaps Sahar or your father should have had a go as well."

Dastan looked at her, painfully aware of the low, angry tone of her voice. She was furious, he could see that plainly on her face and his own temper roared to the challenge. He was angry at her, though a part of him knew it was not solely because she had put herself in harms way for him. He was angry that he had not been strong enough to save everyone, that Garsiv had still been injured even though he had gotten there in time. In some strange way he found that he understood why she had been so adamant that she sacrifice herself for her beliefs. The idea of people suffering for him, for his own shortcomings, it was a torturous one.

Tamina was silent as she looked at him. In some strange way she found it comforting that he would still fight, that he would still argue even with a hoarse voice and a pale face. The hand that had gripped his robe so tightly had slackened and though his heavily bandaged arm hung limply by his side, he still managed to raise his head on his own to look at her with eyes that were clearer than she had seen in days. Tamina found it strange to argue with him not towering over her. She was so used to glaring up at him defiantly that to be the taller one was odd to say the least. But she looked at him squarely, refusing to show even an ounce of guilt. He looked back up at her, his own expression equally stony, though the effect was somewhat dampened by how terrible he still looked.

And that was all the reminder she needed of how close she had come to loosing him.

"He knows about the Dagger," Dastan said finally, "he knows about you running him through."

"How do you know that?" Tamina questioned.

"How do you?"

"He told me that I killed him when I spoke to him," she said.

"Is that why he told you the cure and not Tus?"

"Yes. That and the deal I made with him."

Dastan stared at her, feeling strangely out of his body. She had made a deal with the Hassansin? Whatever deal she had made, the price was too high. Of that he was sure. Men like the one with the fevered blue eyes who had told him flat out that death did not hurt, they were not ones for honoring agreements. But he was alive and all the evidence that Dastan had been shown told him Tamina intended to keep it that way. The Hassansin had taken advantage of her, of that he was sure. A part of him wanted to go down into the bowls of the palace and kill the blue eyed man himself. A part of him wanted to give Tamina a good shake. But walking was quite impossible at the moment, so Dastan did the only thing he could.

"You made a deal with the Hassansin?" Dastan demanded sharply, "Tamina-"

"Don't 'Tamina' me!" the Princess cried suddenly, her voice louder and sharper than he had heard. Realizing her mistake, Tamina pressed her lips together before continuing in a lower, quieter but no less furious tone, "I did what I had to do to make sure that you were safe. That your brother and Seso were safe as well. I make no apologies for that."

"You have no idea what that man is capable of," Dastan said.

"Considering you, Garsiv and Seso are all still alive. I would say he is capable of honesty and upholding his end of a deal," Tamina said, "as am I."

"What did you promise him?" Dastan questioned.

"I promised I would give him a purpose," Tamina said.

Dastan swore, looking down. Tamina fought the urge to look away, only her pride kept her eyes on him. When she had last seen the Hassansin he had been laying on the bed, pale and drenched in sweat and utterly unconscious. Tamina had gone down to check to make sure no one thought to show their patriotism by killing the man. But one look at yet another pale, weak man fighting for their lives had been too much. Especially when Dastan had only just regained consciousness. Adding a few more guards, she had come back to the room to find Dastan and Bis up and about.

"You made a deal with the Hassansin," Dastan said.

"Yes," Tamina said, "i made a deal with the Hassansin to save three lives, three lives that are worth much to Alamut," she continued, "and to me."

"For the life of a man who almost killed you!"

"You'll come to find, _Dastan_ that you are not the only accident prone member of this marriage," Tamina shot back at him.

"Oh I think we've safely established that," Dastan snapped, his tone matching hers.

"Nor, it seems, am i the only one prone to heroics-" Tamina began.

"Stupid heroics," Dastan corrected.

"Stupid?" Tamina demanded, "if doing whatever it takes to save another's life is stupid then you are the greatest fool to ever walk the halls of Alamut."

"Then so be it," Dastan said, ignoring the fact the conversation had turned squarely to his latest brush with death, "I told you that I fight for my family. I will not loose them, not you-"

"And why can you not see that I am just as afraid of loosing you?" Tamina cried, cutting him off.

Dastan's head flew up. Tamina looked at him, fighting the urge once more to look away, or to run from the room. She was not going to run, not anymore. Not from him. Not when the memory of him twisting on the bed was so fresh in her mind. He had almost died, right here in this room he had almost died and the thought of that was just as crippling now as it had been when she had seen him wake for the first time. He made no move to speak as they continued to look at each other. Gathering her thoughts as best she could, Tamina forced herself to continue.

"You watched me die once," she said, fighting guilt when his eyes left hers, "and I pray I will never know what that feels like. But I saw you dying here, on the very bed you now sit on. I watched your brother carry you back to Alamut, barely making it to the gates before he too passed out. When I was with the Hassansin, he asked if I would give him the Dagger if it meant I would save your life."

Dastan's eyes found hers once more and even though he did not ask, Tamina knew he wondered. He had to wonder if she had said yes to the Hassansin's demand.

"I knew he was not interested in the Dagger," she continued, "that what he wanted I could give to him. But, Gods, if he had wanted the Dagger-" she stopped herself, closing her eyes and fighting to control herself.

Dastan watched her struggle, his feet pressing into the floor. He knew he would not get more than a few steps on his legs and with a jolt of dismay he realized it would take more than a few steps to get to her. As his eyes scanned her face, the dismay he felt was slowly replaced with surprise. She looked guilt ridden, as though she was holding a great secret. Dastan realized just what had brought the look to her face and the guilt to her heart. And when he realized that, a whole different feeling took over his body.

"You wanted to say yes," Dastan said, his voice soft.

"Yes," Tamina echoed, her eyes raising to his.

Dastan let out a shaky breath, they were both painfully aware of how things had changed. Three days ago, Dastan knew she would have thrown him off the Temple before putting her precious Dagger in danger. Two days ago she had still been leaving him stranded in places so she could save the Dagger. And now she had just admitted that she would have considered trading the weapon she was sworn to protect to keep him safe. He did not know if she would ever regain the memories of the time they had lost, but she understood now what it was like to watch the person you loved slip away. She knew why he fought as hard as he did to keep her safe. Tamina's lips were pressed tightly together but as though some dam had been broken she began to speak.

"He asked if I would give him the Dagger and I said no, but for one horrible moment I thought he was going to tell me that there was nothing else in the world he wanted. That if I did not give him the Dagger the poison was going to kill you. And you-" she shook her head, "you were so pale, so still-" she looked at him, "I told you that I could not trade the world for you. And you told me that I would not have to."

"Tamina-" Dastan began.

"I wouldn't have," she said quickly, "I could never do that," she took a breath, meeting his eyes, "but I wanted to."

Tamina fought not to bite her lip at the sight of his face. He seemed so surprised, surprised and confused at what she was saying. Even though he had told her that he loved her, she felt exposed to him. The urge to run for the door was there, but it was not like it had been. As she looked at him, for the life of her, she did not know whether she wanted to run away or run to him. She did neither. She forced herself to stand there, to wait for what he was going to say.

"But it did not come to that," he said finally.

"No," she said, fighting the odd disappointment that ached in her chest, "it did not. He wanted a purpose, not the Dagger."

"And you are going to give it to him," Dastan said.

"Yes," Tamina replied, "he upheld his end of our bargain, I will uphold mine."

Dastan was silent for a moment. With an odd sense of maturity, he realized that fighting on the matter was going to get them nowhere. He had done foolish things to protect the people he cared about before, the latest of which still throbbed painfully through him. Tus, Garsiv and Bis had done them too, though his plans usually ended in more physical harm. He was not sure what it was about Tamina being the one to put herself in danger that made him so angry, but he had an unsettling feeling he was going to have to get used to it. She did not look the least bit apologetic for what she had done either, not like he was sure he was going to in a few hours when Garsiv figured out a way to get into the room to yell. Finally Dastan gave the best nod his aching neck would allow.

"I don't like it-" he began.

"No more than I liked watching you suffer-" she shot back.

"But you acted as you saw fit," he said finally, "and if I can understand nothing else about you, I can understand that."

Tamina let out a breath she had not known she was holding. With careful steps she crossed the distance between them, coming to stand beside him on the bed before slowly sitting down, careful not to jar the bedding in case it hurt him more. Though his back was still sloped, he seemed to have relaxed into sitting during their conversation. Though she knew he should probably be laying down, Tamina could not bring herself to suggest such a thing, knowing that maneuvering back down would hurt him even more.

"So in the past two days while i have been sleeping you have managed to save Seso, Garsiv and me. Convince the Sheik first to come to Alamut then to help you without paying him. Now you're holding Hassansins to their promises and commanding the High Council once again," Dastan said.

"Well when you put it like that, it does seem like quite a lot," Tamina said, her lips curving into a smile.

"So tell me, how does it feel to pull of the impossible?"

"It is exhausting," Tamina confessed, "from now on I am going to leave the truly stupid, impossible stunts to you."

"Oh now that is just cruel," Dastan replied, "you should at least do half the truly stupid impossible things in this marriage."

"Half?" Tamina asked, raising an eyebrow, "I believe I have enough impossible tasks that are not quite as ripe with stupidity as yours tend to be."

"Give it time," Dastan advised, "you'll be amazed the effect my penchant for pulling off truly stupid impossible stunts will have on you," his grin widened, "unless, of course, you would like to divide your time between commanding the High Council and tending to your bedridden husband."

Tamina laughed at that and the weight in Dastan's chest seemed to ease. He had not realized how much he missed the sound of her laughter. She seemed younger when she laughed, the stress and worry on her face vanishing as her eyes sparkled with mirth. She truly was breathtaking when she laughed. Dastan looked at her, his eyes moving to her parted lips and suddenly he was acutely aware of the fact that it had been days since they kissed. Since her body had been pressed against his. And though he knew he was in pain and sore from the Hassansin's poison, he wondered how badly it would really hurt to be with her. Tamina's own laughter softened before dying off, her eyes moving across his face as her mind seemed to work in tandem with his.

"Dastan!" Garsiv's furious voice echoed down the hallway.

Dastan froze, his lips a breath from her own. Tamina smiled and pulled back, looking over at the doorway. They could both hear the heavy steps of Dastan's infuriated elder brother storming towards them. Even if they wanted nothing more than to ignore him, Tamina knew that getting to Dastan's room was probably the farthest Garsiv was going to go. Tamina pushed herself to her feet, looking at Dastan apologetically. Like a child, her husband let out a sigh at the knowledge of what she was going to do. Eyes still dancing, Tamina looked at him.

"I can hardly claim all the yelling at you for myself," she said matter of factly.

"Of course not," Dastan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "we can't have that now can we?"

"No," Tamina said, smoothing the folds of her dress, "after all, your stupid heroics did save his life and while Seso may not be the type to yell, I am fairly certain Sheik Amar has some choice words for you."

Dastan's groan had nothing to do with physical pain as Tamina walked over to the doorway and pulled it open, looking down the hallway to see Garsiv hobbling towards them, murder in his eyes. Apparently Dastan was not the only one who did not appreciate people throwing themselves into harms way to save him. And Garsiv had not had the same dose of poison, his throat was not quite as sore. From the sounds of it, Tamina had a feeling she was going to need to find the old woman for a headache remedy for Dastan before his brother was through with him. Looking over her shoulder, Tamina caught Dastan's eye. Even with the impending yelling and the fact that she was the one holding the door for Garsiv, his eyes still softened when they looked at her. Tamina looked back at him with a smile.

There would be plenty of time to tell him later.

* * *

**Tell him what?**

**No not that she's pregnant. God, this isn't a baby fic okay? No kids. But we'll find out soon...if there's anything left of Dastan when Garsiv's through with him. **

**20 chapters kids! Wow thats a lot. And we're not done yet! We've got more action, more adventure (yep) and more loving of the bromance AND romantic nature! So don't worry, its gonna be a wild ride all the way through to the end! **

**Well I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I updated so its time for you to MBR it up! Support our Mutually Beneficial Relationship and keep the awesome train going! That's right, we're on an Awesome Train, Destination: Epic Land. **

**So please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

**First off FANART! Thats right people JinaValtine over on Deviantart drew a beautiful sketch of Dastan and Tamina commandeering Aksh and taking off on their adventure! The pic is just all kinds of awesome and totally captures the feel of them running. Of course I'm also a sucker for how tight Tamina's holding onto Dastan. Check the pic out! The easiest way to do this is to go back to my profile and scroll down to the appropriately named "Links of Awesome" section of my profile where I have a link for my fanart folder on Deviantart. Or, alternately, you can go to JinaValtine's deviantart page and check out the art!**

**Lillelouis, I find it incredibly flattering that you think I have unposted chapters! As I am typing this message to you, the page below me is blank. By the time you read it in a couple of hours it'll have a lot of words. I actually have NO saved up chapters! I get too excited and have to post stuff right away. **

**Now before everyone accuses me of making stuff up, I didn't. Zolm is the name of the Hassansin leader. How'd I find it, you ask? On Brickpedia, the Lego Wiki! Hey the action figure's gotta have an official name. **

**Bang up job in the review department, as always. You guys did some kick ass reviewing and forgiving for my day of non-updates. **

**And here is the new chapter!**

* * *

By the time that Garsiv, the second Prince of Persia, made it to the doorway of Dastan's room he looked ready to fall over. It was strange in itself to see Garsiv with his hair unbound, but btween the fever and the tossing, his hair was a tangled mess that lay limp with grease and sweat. He looked terrible, though Dastan was vaguely aware of the fact that he looked much worse. But even so as he looked at Garsiv, all thoughts of the yelling he was about to recieve were gone from his head. Suddenly he was the young boy in the healers tent, ignoring the battle and begging Garsiv not to die. Garsiv, however, seemed not to care that he looked moments from falling over as he drew himself up as best his sore muscles would allow and unleashed a torrent of insults on his younger brother.

"You ingrate!" Garsiv shouted, "what in the name of God possessed you to do something so stupid? Tell me, did you hit your head before deciding that your chest would be the best shield for me? Or did the desert sun wear you so thin? Or perhaps you were just always this stupid and i never noticed!"

Dastan winced at the volume of Garsiv's voice, waiting until Garsiv paused before speaking.

"Nice, Garsiv, I was worried about you too," Dastan said.

"You threw yourself in front of poisoned darts and lay unconscious for two days! You did not have the chance to worry about anyone!" Garsiv all but screamed at him, "_I_ was the one to carry you back to Alamut. _I_ was the one awake for all of those two days wondering if you were going to live or die!"

"I actually heard you were unconscious when we got to the courtyard," Dastan said with a smile, "almost fell off the horse."

Garsiv's face darkened and for a moment Dastan wondered if Garsiv had over exerted himself and was going to faint again. But he realized that there was no such salvation in the foreseeable future. Garsiv was simply too livid for the moment to speak properly. Inwardly Dastan felt bad for bringing up his brother's loss of consciousness but from the ringing in his ears he would have cut his own arm off to keep Garisv from shouting more. Of course there were no hoarseness in Garsiv's voice. Nothing to show that he too had been caught in the throws of agony. Dastan could barely speak for long periods of time and yet Garsiv still found it in himself to shout at him.

"I thought you were dead!" Garsiv shouted at him, the anger almost overcoming the worry, "I didn't even know it was you who had thrown themselves in front of me until that God cursed Hassansin got me on my knees!"

"Not the knees," Dastan said, his voice full of mock horror.

"I thought I had watched you die!" Garsiv repeated, the anger making his voice loud.

Dastan looked up at him, fighting not to shout back at him that he had, in fact, watched him die. He had seen him get riddled with the darts, he had watched the blood spill from his lips and the light die in his eyes as death claimed him. He had lived through the consequences of the darts entering Garsiv and just as he refused to watch Tamina die once more, he could not fathom what it would be like to see the light fade from Garsiv's eyes.

"I did," Dastan said finally.

"You what?" Garsiv bellowed, clearly not hearing what Dastan had said.

"I did," Dastan repeated, as loudly as his scream torn throat would let him, "I watched you die."

"And so you think that gives you the right to sacrifice yourself for me?" Garsiv snarled, refusing to see how that would make Dastan more inclined to throw himself in front of the Hassansin's darts.

"Yes-no-" Dastan swore, wishing that he could press the bridge of his nose in frustration, "yes," he said finally, "if it comes to that."

"Well it doesn't!" Garsiv shouted, ignoring Dastan's words.

Dastan glared at his older brother, something Garsiv was more than happy to return. Before he even realized he could stand, Dastan was on his feet, the anger and adrenaline pulsing through him.

"I watched all of you die!" he said loudly, "I heard our father scream as acid ate his skin! I watched metal stop your heart before the poison ever could. I saw Tus fall, his throat split open! I let Tamina go!" he continued to rant, "I would do anything, _anything_ to keep that from happening-"

"You fool!" Garsiv shouted, cutting him off but Dastan barreled on.

"I cannot watch you all die again!" he shouted, the pain dampened by his anger.

"And so I am to spend the rest of my life watching you throw yourself in the path of Hassansin and warriors and anything else that threatens anyone?" Garsiv demanded.

"If that is what it takes to keep you safe-"

"Stop this madness!" Garsiv cut him off, refusing to let him speak, "you are not some child thinking he can save the world with a well aimed kick. We are warriors and Princes. You know better than to think you can save us from every person with a weapon."

"I can," Dastan said stubbornly.

"Dastan," Garsiv rolled his eyes, "it is one thing to watch another's back. It is another to get yourself killed because your mind is on something that never happened."

"I know," Dastan said after a moment, his own voice lowering in response to Garsiv's, "and I know that what I saw, never came to pass. But I keep seeing it. I lived through that. I raised my sword to you, I heard you call me a traitor and a murderer," Dastan trailed off, "and even when you were still convinced I killed our father you used your last breaths to save my life."

"As any good brother would," Garsiv said, no shame in his words.

"Then why am I not allowed to do the same?"

"Because you are my younger brother! I am supposed to protect you, not the other way around!"

The moment the words had been spoken, both brother's wished that they could be taken back. Garsiv was not one to show affection and even in the shouting, some kind of brotherly affection had slipped through. Both were suddenly painfully aware of just how worried Garsiv had been about his younger brother as Dastan fought for his life. That, in some ways, was more unsettling even than the fact Dastan had seen his brother's death with a time traveling Dagger. Garsiv was admitting that he was worried and upset for the safety of his younger sibling.

"So you would not do the same for Tus?" Dastan challenged.

"Of course," Garsiv snapped.

"Then why am I forbidden?" Dastan demanded.

"You just are!"

"I just am?" Dastan repeated, "thats not an explanation."

"Yes it is!"

"Garsiv, do you truly think I don't know about your habit of looking at the walls in the middle of a battle to make sure I'm still alright?" Dastan asked.

"I do not!"

On the other side of the door, Tamina listened to the brothers shout at each other, torn between amusement at their antics and frustration that they were pushing themselves so hard after they had only just began to recover. Footsteps drew her eyes to the doors nearby. She watched as they opened and Tus stepped out. The yelling was audible in the hallway, though one look at Tus's face told her this was nothing unusual for the two dark haired Princes. Still the elder of the three walked over to where she was leaning, his eyes bright with amusement.

"So they have begun," he said looking at the doors.

"Will they keep doing this for long?" Tamina asked as a particularly loud yell echoed.

"Oh until one of them passes out most likely," Tus said, "they are loud in their affections."

There was the sound of something breaking.

"And destructive, it would seem," Tamina said with an arch of her eyebrow," she looked at Tus, "I must see to the healers and our Hassansin," she said, "walk with me?"

Tus nodded and they fell into step side by side. Tamina looked at the future King of Persia. She did need to go and speak to the healers and the Hassansin. She had much to do, in fact. And the idea of standing there listening to the two of them shout until they were blue in the face was one that sounded very foolish. Especially when there were pressing matters that needed to be tended to.

"What can you tell me me of the Hassansins?" Tamina asked, looking at Tus.

"As you know the Hassansins were once loyal to my father," Tus said, "but he grew weary of their ways and ordered them disbanded."

"It must be quite a luxury to grow weary of men who have been forced to train their entire lives to become what your father ordered," Tamina said, meeting his gaze with her own.

Tus, at the very least, had the grace to seem ashamed at what his father had done. But the glimmer of shame she saw on him was confirmation enough of the Hassansins words. The man had told the truth, though he had no reason to do so. And that in itself was unsettling. She knew that in this time she could not have spent more than a handful of minutes with the man, probably not even a full hour. And the last time it was barely longer than that. Yet he had already proven to be a mess of contradictions that rivaled even Dastan. Acting on a hunch, Tamina turned towards Tus.

"Have you found anything about this man? If he was loyal to your King, surely you must have some knowledge of who he is."

"I sent word to the capital. My father had the evidence of the Hassansins destroyed," Tus continued, "those who did not wish to disband had supposedly attacked the Persian guards and were killed in the fight," Tamina looked down, fighting the urge to curse the Persian king, "my uncle, however, was quite precise in his records."

"Were you able to-" she began.

"The man currently in your care is named Zolm. As far as we can tell he is the last of the Den," he said, "the others killed by Garsiv's men."

"The last of the Den?" Tamina asked, hating how foolish she sounded.

"Hassansins are all loyal to the King but they functioned in Dens, each independant of another. A Hassansin might go his entire life and only know the men he lives with," Tus said, "it seems that my Uncle picked two to keep for himself, the two that had the best boys who made it through the first five years of the training," Tus continued, looking at her to see if she followed. Tamina nodded to show she had, "they did not understand why my father had disbanded them and when the boys begin their formal training they are already fanatics."

"So there is another Den of Hassansins?" Tamina asked.

"It would seem so," Tus said, "but while I have sent men to look for them using the information we could find in my Uncle's posession, I am not naieve enough to think they will find it."

"Then we will speak to the Hassansin," Tamina said, "perhaps he can be of some use yet."

"And if he gives you information that leads to a trap?" Tus asked.

"Surely your Persian soliders are competent enough to recognize a trap before it is sprung," Tamina said with a humorless curve of her lips.

Tus returned the smile but Tamina could see he was strained not to rise to the jab. But it seemed that Dastan's brother was far more in control of his emotions and responses than either of his brothers. Though she could see the King in both Tus and Garsiv, Tus seemed to be the most removed from his brothers personality-wise. Garisv seemed to make a half hearted attempt at acting like a Prince but it rarely seemed to work out. What surprised her the most listening to their fighting was that it never seemed to come to Dastan's adoption. The fact that they were not blood related never seemed to be used against him. That, more than anything she had seen, made her sure of Dastan's place with his brothers. Their love for him must have made Nizam's betrayal all the worse. Tamina looked at Tus out of the corner of her eye. Man who attacked her city or no, Tus knew about the Dagger and had learned what it could do.

Inwardly Tamina amonished herself. Once more her personal feelings were getting in the way of her duty. As the Princess of Alamut she had every right to be furious with Tus. As a woman who had watched fires rage through Alamut and heard the screams of people while she had been powerless to do anything, she was more than allowed to hate the man walking alongside her. But as the Guardian of the Dagger. She had known there would be a day when her duties would conflict with each other, when what she had to do as Princess or Tamina would contradict what she needed to do as a Priestess and Guardian. But that was her most sacred duty. That was the calling, the duty she needed to uphold above all others. Alamut could burn, the citizens could be slaughtered, but the Dagger needed to be safe and the people who knew its secret, whose fates were tied to it, they needed her guidance.

"I trust the matter we spoke of has remained private?" she asked, looking at him.

"As you asked," Tus said, his eyes moving around the hallway.

Tamina knew he understood the importance of keeping such a thing private. Very few knew the true power of the Dagger, fewer still what it could do with the Sands underneath the city. It was better for all that way. But the handful of Perisans now knew more than the guardians or the High Council. The palace was crawling with Persians and even if it had not been, the Dagger and its power did not slip into conversation. But if she pulled Tus aside, she knew that anyone who saw them together would wonder. And the paths that their minds would take was not one that Tamina was willing to deal with. They continued to walk down the hallway to the healers and the Hassansin.

"It is a troubling one," she continued, leaving the subject of their discussion ambiguous, "one that requires much contemplation."

"Contemplation is best done in a place of silence," Tus replied, "removed from the world," Tamina nodded, "I am new to your city, Princess, and sadly my time has been occupied with matters other than searching for places of contemplatin, removed from the world."

So his spies had not found the Temple. The guardians had done their job and she had not yet ordered the clearing of the passageway. Given all that Tus, Garsiv and Bis knew, there were things they needed to understand. Things that Dastan needed to understand as well. Tamina spared a brief inward wince of frustration. Informing four men-five if it came to that with the Hassansin-who were neither Alamutian nor related to the guardians of the secrets of the Dagger meant she was going to get her ear chewed off by the High Council. She might have commanded them but their word still held sway. They would see that she had no other choice, that there was no other way, but Tamina knew she would have to suffer through each of her decisions being picked apart by a group of men who had not really been there.

"Perhaps," Tamina said looking at Tus, "or perhaps you are looking all around, when what you seek is right in front of your nose," she smiled, "or above your head."

Tus had the sense to keep his eyes on Tamina's, but both understood what she had just said. Everything she was fought against continuing, every ounce of training told her to be silent. That by telling him the Temple was above him she had already said to much. But he was not a man after the fortunes of the Dagger and leaving him in the dark was not going to untangle the mess they found themselves in. If anything it was going to make their situation worse. She had told them what the Dagger meant and though they might understand, they did not know completely. They came to a halt outside of the of the place the healers were keeping the Hassansin.

"I look forward to finding such a place, Your Highness," Tus said.

"Alamut is a city of healing and protection, Prince," Tamina said, "such things tend to find you before you are able to discover them."

She turned and walked through the doors into the room, leaving the riddle in the air.

The rooms where the healers usually worked on their patients were eastern facing, letting in the most light of anywhere save for the High Temple. It was easy to find the Hassansin. None of the few others in the room had so many guards standing around them. Fighting the urge to turn and run, Tamina squared her shoulders and walked forward. By the time she arrived at the healers and the guards, she was perfectly composed. The healers stopped and turned and looked at her as she stood there.

"Get out," she ordered, not raising her voice, "and close the curtain on your way."

Tamina stood perfectly still as the healers cleared out, leaving her once again in the room with the Hassansin. His chains did not comfort her, nor did his pale, sweat soaked features. One look at him and she knew the healers were not working their hardest to save the man's life. She had spent so long staring at Dastan's face, watching as he struggled with the fevered dreams that her eyes immediately saw how still the Hassansin's lids were. He was not dreaming and though the rise and fall of his chest was steady, it did not catch like one's breath sometimes did in sleep. The man laying in front of her was very much awake. And if he was awake then Tamina knew she was in danger. But she pushed any flares of panic aside. Dastan was safe, Garsiv and Seso were as well. The man in front of her had held up his end of the bargin and she knew she would do the same.

"Tell me how you know of the time my husband rewound," she said, not raising her voice.

The Hassansin's eyes opened. Still oddly bright and fevered, they locked on her with the same bored expression he had shown the previous times she had spoken to him. As she looked at him she did not feel the same frustration she had felt when Dastan had been sitting as they argued. Every ounce of power she could gain, whatever upperhand she could wrestle, she would gladly take. The Hassansin looked at her but he made no move to shrug his chains, nor even to sit up. Apparently he was not bothered that he had to look up to see her. Tamina looked at him calmly, refusing to show any discomfort to him. He seemed to look at her again as though he could see down to her very soul.

"Does it matter to you?" the Hassansin asked, "you have already made a promise to me. Your husband and friends are alive. You are not going to break your promise."

"Am I not?" Tamina asked, raising an eyebrow at his boldness.

"I would already be dead," the Hassansin said turning his head to the windows.

"You said you had no life or loyalty," Tamina said, throwing the Hassansins words back at him, "it would make no difference to you if I killed you here and now," she said. The Hassansin said nothing, but his gaze dragged back to her, "but you have upheld your end of our agreement."

"You will not kill me," he said, "because the idea of a Princess having less honor than a man like me is a troubling one to you."

The insult was sharper than she expected from a man who still looked at her as though she was nothing more than a passing annoyance. Even though his expression showed nothing in the way of emotion, the withdrawal was wearing at him. The note of accusation in his voice was the largest emotion Tamina had seen from him, and something told her that it would not continue for long. She had no desire to witness a breakdown, not again. Not so soon. Drawing herself up, she looked at him without pity or anger or frustration. Just a blank face that brought a flash of suspicious surprise to his face before he quickly pushed it away.

But in that moment he seemed more human that Tamina could have ever anticipated. But the most humanizing thing about him was not the flash of emotion or the fact he was laying there as she stood. It was impossibly more simple than that. She knew his name. She knew he would most likely give her some short speech about how it was not his name anymore, how that belonged to the King as well. But she knew, in some way, who he had been before being thrown into the caves. Who he was today. That, if nothing else, gave her more power than she would have thought when speaking to the man laying before her.

"I will not kill you," she agreed finally, "nor will the drugs still in your system," she continued before he could speak, "you will recover and I will uphold my end of our bargain."

"You still delight in giving orders," the Hassansin told her with a look of faint distaste.

"I can only hope you have retained some skill at following them," Tamina said.

"My loyalty is not yours to command," he said.

"Your loyalty is wasted elsewhere," Tamina said, "every Persian here wonders why I let you live."

"And you think that gives you the right to command me?" he question.

"I think that in a palace where almost every person wants you dead and the few who do not want it outright are having trouble thinking of reasons why not," Tamina said, "a man as skilled at survival as yourself would understand that your loyalty has nowhere else to go."

"It is not for you to command," he repeated, revealing just how much he disliked being told what to do by her and how much he disliked being stuck in the position he found himself.

"No, Zolm," Tamina said, letting his true name roll off her tongue, "but there is no-one else who cares to hear what you have to say."

Feeling slightly ashamed at the triumph that surged through her as shock shown stark on the Hassansin's usually blank features, Tamina held herself perfectly still. She could feel this way but she would not let the Hassansin witness her triumph. Instead she turned on her heel and walked for the door, letting the Hassansin lay there and wonder just how she had figured out what his name was. Tamina crossed the room, letting the curtain swish shut behind her before heading to the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Sahar stood outside of the room, closer to the door but distinctly removed from the healers and guards that Tamina had displaced. Dressed in the robes of a guardian she was easy to recognize, even only out of the corner of Tamina's eye. As soon as it became clear she was not going to speak to them, the healers and guards began to filter back into the room as Tamina turned around and walked down the hallway in the direction which she had come from. Tamina did not even look at her as they walked down the hallway, their feet soft on the polished floors.

"Summon the guardians," she said.

"And the High Council?" Sahar asked.

"No," Tamina said, "only the guardians," she looked at Sahar, "and make arrangements for the Princes Garsiv and Tus as well as the man Bis to be brought to the High Temple."

Sahar nodded.

"I will take Dastan myself," she finished.

"As you command," Sahar said, bowing to Tamina and moving seamlessly away.

Tamina fought not to cross her arms in coldness. The High Council would talk themselves into a frenzy when they found out about this but Tamina could not worry about such things. Her duty to the Dagger was her most important one and the past three days had shown her that there would be times when such a duty was called into question. When it was challenged by something else. But that only seemed to stress to her how important it was for her to perform that duty whenever possible. And having four people running around without fully understanding what it meant to be tied to the Dagger was placing far too many souls in grave danger. She was going to have to speak to them as a Guardian, to make sure that they understood the gravity of the situation they found themselves in. And while she wished that there was time for them to recover, if there was another group of Hassansins waiting to strike, time was short.

She just hoped Garsiv would be finished yelling at Dastan by the time she got back to his room.

* * *

**Tomorrow we're gonna head over to get a better look at the inside of the Temple and how things work. Oh and more bro loving. **

**And maybe some, uh, other kind of loving. **

**(what? Its been like four chapters since anyone got any action and don't forget Sheik Amar's there and they did save Seso's life) **

**MBR time ppl. Keep that awesome train going! **


	22. Chapter 22

**I am being spoiled by fanartists!**

**Today Ariagothique made a beautiful cover for Sadalsuud! It looks like a movie poster and totally had me squealing when I saw it! AND she even included Aksh who, frankly, I think is almost a secondary character at this point. Go to my fanart page on devianart (link on my profile) and check it out!**

**Reviews are awesome as always. Totally get what you are saying with the whole D/T fluff thing. But sadly I do need to move the plot forward and there was just SO much romance I wanted some action there too. But don't worry, there's gonna be D/T in this chapter in fact. **

**So enjoy Dastan, Tamina and a bathing pool. **

**I mean the chapter. **

* * *

"You realize you aren't going to be able to talk for days now?" Dastan asked Garsiv hoarsely.

"Do you truly think that will keep me from making you suffer for your foolishness?" Garsiv asked, his voice equally hoarse.

Dastan rolled his eyes at Garsiv. They had shouted themselves blue in the face and Garsiv, in an uncharacteristic show of weakness had only managed to break one vase. Now, with no voices left to shout at each other with, they were sitting side by side on Dastan's bed, both struggling to give some semblance of being strong though they had pushed their sore bodies much farther than they should have. Both could appreciate the fact that they were up and yelling after their latest brush with death, though neither would have accepted anything less. They were warriors of Persia, not stuffy nobles who couldn't hold their own in a fight. The door opened, drawing their attention to the figure that entered and suddenly they were neither warriors nor nobles.

They were younger siblings.

"I trust you two have expressed your love for one another?" Tus asked looking at them in the way only he could, "and only one vase broken. Garsiv I'm surprised at you."

"Give me a day," Garsiv said, waving off Tus.

Tus sighed and turned to the servants who quickly came in carrying cups filled with strong herbal tea. The few who were Persian looked around, clearly expecting there to be more damage to the room while the ones who hailed from Alamut looked shocked there was any damage at all. Within moments a low table was placed at the bed, the tea set out and a chair brought up for Tus. The elder of them dismissed the servants with a nod of his head before fixing Dastan with the look he usually reserved for when they had done something particularly awful. Something like keeping a monumental secret from their brothers.

"Drink," Tus said, "I believe you are going to need your voice for the explanation you owe us."

Shame at his brother's words filled Dastan as he reached forward and wrapped his hand around the cup. The first sip burned like fire as the warm liquid met his abused throat. The second was better. Whether he drank the whole cup to stall for time or because the liquid began to help his ruined voice, he could not say. But when the liquid was gone, he had no choice but to set the cup down and face the two men who deserved an explanation Dastan was not sure he could give. Not like they deserved. Dastan looked between the two of them, from anger and curiosity on Garsiv's face to the reserved look on Tus's own features.

"I guess I should start with an apology?" Dastan tried weakly, falling back on humor. Neither of them smiled, "there was no time to tell you," he said finally, "and I did not even know if I _could_ say anything!"

"What would make you think that?" Garsiv asked with a snort.

"Why could I not tell the people who invaded Alamut about its most prized treasure that held the power to make any man a King and was the reason our Uncle ordered the invasion?" Dastan demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Gee, Garsiv, I don't know."

"Thats enough," Tus cut in, his voice edged, "Dastan, what reason have we given you not to trust us?"

"None," Dastan said, looking at the ground between his feet and feeling incredibly young and foolish, "but I-" he let out a breath, stopping mid sentence.

"But?" Tus prodded gently after a moment of silence.

"But I did not think I would ever have to tell you," Dastan said finally. Garsiv and Tus traded a look, "I saw you all alive and I thought that it would be better if I did not tell you what happened. And after what Nizam did-" he shook his head, "I thought it would be better if no-one else knew."

"Dastan," Tus sighed, turning Dastan's name into a scolding, "we saw the weight this secret had on you. You could not honestly think that there was any sense in bearing such a burden alone."

Dastan looked at Tus. Tus and their father had an uncanny ability to make the truth spill from the lips of him, Garsiv and Bis. Dastan looked down at his brother's hands. The familiar worry beads were wrapped around his brother's fingers, but the beads were silent. Tus was worried, anxious even but he was not nervous or angry enough to need the odd comfort of the beads he was never without. That gave Dastan the courage to continue.

"Between Nizam and father, you had enough to worry about," Dastan told Tus. He looked over at Garsiv before looking back at the floor, "and you two were always being told how much you were like Nizam and our father, I thought I could carry this burden for the three of us."

Both were shocked into silence at his blunt words. Aside from Garisv's delirious promise to his brother, something they were both willing to deny, neither had spoken of the constant comparisons to their father and Nizam. And from the looks on their faces, neither had thought it had an effect on Dastan. The two of them looked at each other before looking back at Dastan. Hesitantly Dastan looked between the pair of hem, knowing that his words had made the already uncomfortable situation so much worse. Gasiv let out a breath, shaking his head as Tus leaned forward, drawing Dastan's eye to him.

"Our Uncle's treachery has affected every facet of our lives," Tus said, "and even now we have no way of knowing how long it will be before we discover the true extent of his treachery," the future King shook his head almost sadly, "but keeping secrets will not help."

"I know," Dastan said, "I know," he repeated though the repetition did little to make his words convincing.

"One of the first things we taught you was not to listen to the palace gossip," Tus reminded him gently.

"Its not just gossip," Dastan objected, "I know what they would say," he looked between them, "I saw how you looked-" he trailed off at the look in Tus's eyes, "I just wanted to help," he finished, painfully aware of just how pathetic that sounded.

"There are ways for you to help that do not involve us finding ourselves in this situation," Tus said.

"Thats right," Garsiv interjected, hoarsely,"the next time find a way to help that makes it harder for him to talk."

Dastan shook his head with a smile at their jabs, knowing full well that the last thing Garsiv wished was for Tus to come to harm. But it seemed that even that was not enough to prevent the jabs, which in some ways was the most comforting thing of all. Tus rolled his eyes at Garsiv who flashed a rare grin at his brother, still enjoying teasing his older sibling. There was no strain in the humor on their faces and Dastan found his own coming easily as well. Tus looked between the two of them, his eyes softening in a way that they only did when he was faced with his two younger siblings.

"Brotherhood is still the sword that keeps Persia strong," Tus said.

Garsiv and Dastan looked at one another, both shocked at the sincerity in Tus's voice. His words were true but the idea that such a thing was spoken like Tus had, well that was uncomfortable for all of them. Swiping a hand through his limp hair, Dastan looked at Garsiv who seemed torn between smacking one of them or bolting for the door as fast as his sore legs could take him.

"I think you might be right about keeping him from talking next time," Dastan said finally.

"Agreed," Garsiv said.

Tus pressed his hand to his chest as though they had wounded him which only made the situation more amusing. It hurt to laugh but that did not deter either of them. They were so caught up in their own amusement that they did not hear the door open, nor the people enter until their guests were in the room.

"Am I interrupting?" Tamina asked, walking in and looking between them.

"Not at all," Tus said, "we were just finishing."

"Good," Tamina said looking between the three of them. As she stood there four more women came out from behind her. Instantly the smiles slipped from his brother's faces. The women were all dressed in prayer robes, their faces hidden by the hoods that covered their heads, "these guardians will take you to your rooms," she said, "and prepare you for what is to come."

The brothers knew better than to question what was about to happen. Both got to their feet quietly, moving towards the women more out of respect for Tamina than any desire to take part in the rituals of the Dagger. The women left, closing the doors behind his brothers and leaving Dastan and Tamina alone. Dastan looked at her as she walked over to where he was sitting, her hands neatly by her sides. Even if he had seen her at her rawest, he was aware of the fact that she was acting not as his wife but as the priestess and Guardian of the Dagger.

"Rise," she said.

He rose slowly, thankful that his legs held his weight. Tamina held his gaze with her own for a moment before turning on her heel and walking off. Dastan followed her across the expanse of the room to the screen in the corner. She led him behind it, pushing open a heavy wooden door, holding it open for him. Dastan walked through the door and into small room, barely large enough for the staircase it contained. Tamina walked up it. Forcing any uneasiness or doubts aside, Dastan followed her up the narrow, spiraled structure, one hand griping the balcony. Within the first five minutes his legs burned and his lungs ached. Though Tamina's pace was slow, she did not stop or look at him with worry and somehow Dastan found the strength to press on.

By the time they reached the top, his skin was slick with sweat and his entire body felt as though it had been beaten properly by Garsiv. Cradling his injured arm, Dastan walked forward off the last of the steps. Tamina pushed open the door in front of them as Dastan all but staggered through into yet another room. They were high up in the palace, of that he was sure. Light streamed through the high arches set into the walls, filtering softly through the gauzy white curtains that hung in front of the windows. In the center of the room was a wide sunken in portion of the floor, filled with water so clear that if it was still Dastan doubted he would have noticed there was water in it at all.

"Come," Tamina said, lightly touching his hand and leading him forward, stopping at the side of the pool.

Dastan watched her as she stepped close to him, her eyes moving over his body. He knew he had been changed since he arrived back at the palace, though the clothing he wore now was in little better shape than the clothing he had arrived in. He watched as Tamina's hands moved forward. Her fingertips slowly slid underneath his injured forearm, taking the weight of the limb as she gently moved his other hand away. Dastan let the limb fall to the side, watching as her sun tanned hands found the knot that held the wrap shirt he wore together. She pulled the tie apart slowly, releasing the fabric so that it fell open. Her eyes remained on her task, but her fingertips lingered against his chest as they moved upwards to the neck of the shirt.

Tamina tried not to focus on the bruises that spread along his ribcage as she touched the collar of his shirt. Her fingertips brushed his greasy hair as she slowly pushed the fabric off his shoulder, her other hand lowering his forearm to let the fabric slide off his other one. Dastan did not move to help her disrobe him, as if he too understood that if she could do nothing else she could do this. Tamina was careful as she guided the fabric off his torso, her fingers deftly handling his limp arm as she eased the fabric off his good arm before holding the fabric in her free hand. Tamina swallowed thickly as she guided the fabric off his shoulder. Dastan fought the urge to gasp as cold air hit the bandaged skin, even the light touch from the breeze making him tense, though he was sure there was no actual pain in the limb.

Tamina let the fabric fall to the ground as her eyes swept over him, taking in the bruises and cuts that marred his skin before they came to rest on his arm. Her movements remained slow and careful as she undid the bandages and peeled them away from his chest and arm, revealing the wounds underneath. Her face remained expressionless as she looked at the skin, still raw with the newness of the wounds. The dart wounds on his chest, back and shoulders were still open but the healers had seen fit to sew the long ropy wounds from the Hassansin's blades shut. Dastan looked at his hand, the scar there would be rather spectacular even by Bis's impressively high standards. And yet looking at the wounds he could not bring himself to regret what had gone into getting each one. They had all been for his family, the old and the new, and there was no shame in that. Tamina swallowed as she looked at him, her fingers tightening slightly against his skin.

Dastan found it impossible to speak as her free hand trailed the plane of his chest. There was nothing sexual in the way she touched him, the butterfly skim of her fingertips just light enough to be felt. And yet as he stood in front of her clad only in a pair of linen trousers, Dastan found his entire body ached in a way that had nothing to do with the wounds he was recovering from. Anger had forced the soreness and weariness aside once. Now as Tamina's sun darkened hand touched his chest he found desire accomplished the same task. Tamina's lips parted softly, the veil of priestess slipping for a moment before her features regained their serenity. Perfectly composed, she held his gaze with her own as her fingers undid the tie of his pants, letting the fabric drop to the ground with a soft, barely audible sound.

Tamina clutched at serenity with the tips of her fingers. This was part of the ritual. Dastan could not enter the Temple wearing the filth that he was. But more often than not lower guardians undressed the men and set them in the baths. By the time she got to them they were cleaned and clothed. But it had seemed wrong for another to see Dastan in such a state. Though now that she stood before him fighting to keep her serenity, Tamina wondered if letting another guardian do this part of the ritual was really such a bad idea. Though it was too late to think of such things now. She felt heat creep up her neck, Tamina held his gaze with her own.

It was one thing to loose all of ones clothing in the heat of the moment with the sting of liquor and the touch of lips. It was quite another to stand there naked as Dastan was. And yet for the life of her she could see no shame on his face. Though when she had been in his position she had been bright red in the face at the thought of another seeing her naked. Fighting not to blush, Tamina led Dastan down the first steps of the pool, to the wide shelf set into the wall where people sat to bathe. She did not let her grip on his arm go, though he was tall enough that the water barely came to the middle of his chest. She waited until he sat cautiously on the ledge and she was settled behind him on the stones lining the pool before breaking the silence.

"I have not seen you this silent since you awoke," Tamina said to him finally. Dastan looked at her with confusion.

"I thought I was not supposed to speak-" he began. She raised an eyebrow, "you have strange rituals here," he said.

"Well I would hardly say the normally ceremonial bath will work for you," Tamina said, "and one does not enter the High Temple smelling as you do."

"But they are allowed to enter it wearing a sheet?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"That was a special case," Tamina objected. Dastan flashed a smile, "in case you have forgotten, you were rather fragile at the time."

"I had not forgotten," Dastan said, "nor the fact that was the first-and last, I might add-decent sleep I had gotten all month."

"Well I am glad that the smell of one of us was good enough to put you to sleep," Tamina said.

"Says the woman who only fell asleep when she was safely tucked in my bedroll," Dastan returned, feeling utterly delighted when color stained her cheeks.

"Only because you had not slept in it," Tamina objected finally.

"I'm sure," Dastan said.

"We had been traveling for two days. You did _not_ smell good enough to lull me to-" she stopped, "did you just flick water at me?"

Tamina's eyes widened as he did it again. She gasped in outrage at the water that landed on her robe. Dastan opened his mouth, either to further their argument or to apologize but Tamina had already stuck her hand in the water and returned the favor. Dastan was already wet but before long Tamina's robe was slick with water, the white fabric becoming pressed against the curves of her body. When she was thoroughly soaked, Tamina looked down at the white fabric she wore, knowing it was beyond salvation for the ritual that would be taking place. Dastan looked partially ashamed at what he had done but it did not stop Tamina from sending a final flick of water his way. Pushing her wet hair out of her face, Tamina looked at him with a half hearted glare.

In the middle of their fight Dastan had moved closer to her, his injured arm laying over her knee as his good hand had already submerged in the water. His broad chest was pressed against her knees, though water had made the fabric slick as well. Tamina's hands lowered as she looked at his clear eyes. Tamina looked down at him, very aware of what happened when white fabric got wet. There was no liquor or heat or any of the things that had inspired her bold actions back in the Valley. And yet as she looked down at Dastan she realized that her heart was pounding in his chest. One look at him and she knew he too was thinking of the same thing she was.

It seemed unfathomable that it had only been three nights.

Three nights since she had admitted to caring for him. Three nights since his calloused hands had wreaked havoc on her body. Three nights since everything they were had been laid bare to each other. Three nights and it still seemed like an impossibly long time. Tamina recognized the look that crept into Dastan's eyes, certain that her own face mirrored it. Three nights and now he was naked in a bathing pool at her knees and she knew the robe she wore was slicked to her body with water.

"I am allowed to speak," he said, his voice low "and to get you wet," he continued, his eyes leaving hers to rest on her lips before coming to her eyes once more, "am I allowed to kiss you?"

"No," Tamina siad, though the breathlessness of her voice betrayed the desire that coursed through her.

"I was never one for ritual," Dastan said pushing himself up.

His lips met hers, hot and wet and fierce. Tamina's hands cupped his cheeks, her own meeting his with the same desperation. Every part of her said that this was the last thing he needed to be doing, and yet every part of her pushed her body closer to his as she parted her lips, deepening the kiss as her body reacted to the touch of him. When he sunk back into the water, Tamina leaned forward, not letting the distance be closed by such a simple thing as an exhausted warrior. No longer supporting his weight, Dastan's hand came up and wrapped around her waist, his fingers sliding up the length of her back to settle against her shoulderblades, underneath the wetness of her hair.

Even with his arm throbbing and his jaw aching, Dastan could have groaned aloud at the feel of her mouth on his. He had been half sure she would be scared and hesitant. Given that their last passionate moment had ended with him running around the Valley of the Slaves in nothing more than a bedsheet and her running off to witness her people slaughtered. And yet there was no hesitation in her now as her lips claimed his. He could feel the bandage wrapping her own hand against the skin of his cheek, the fabric already wet from his skin. She was so warm and soft against him it took all he had not to drag her into the water and continue what they had done on their belated wedding night. At the low sound that escaped the back of her throat, he very nearly threw caution and ritual to the wind. Only Tamina's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"No-no," Tamina drew back, "we cannot do this," she shook her head as though to clear it, "you are barely on your feet as it is-"

"Who said anything about me being on my feet?" he asked, though his hand moved from her shoulders to her hip as she sat up.

"Dastan," Tamina scolded, her tone making her sound frighteningly like Tus.

Dastan looked at her and while every part of her wanted to continue what they were doing, she knew they should stop. The bathing was part of the ritual, but it was not as if the pool he was submerged in held any special significance. It was just one of the many baths in the palace, though it was among the more private. She had chosen it because she knew he needed a much stronger scrubbing than any quick wash would afford him. He was supposed to be getting cleaner, not dirtier. And especially not with her. But from the way he looked at her, Tamina knew he was going to make a very convincing argument as to why they should finish what they had begun, even if all they had done was kiss. Though the warm hand that rested on the curve of her hip wanted to make her throw duty and caution to the wind and continue what they were doing.

"Tonight," Tamina heard her own voice, breathless with what they had done, "after I make sure your brothers and Bis understand the gravity of the situation they find themselves in."

"Tonight then," Dastan agreed finally, more because she had said it than any care he had as to whether or not his brothers and Bis understood the gravity of the situation,"but you must promise me something."

"And what is that?" Tamina asked.

"Don't mention my brothers."

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**I know I know I said ritual but hey, the bathhouse took over the chapter. Besides you all were clamoring for some fluff so here you go. Fluff and smexy and YES I'm aware that the bathhouse is going to have an R-rated counterpart in my future smut oneshot series. **

**Don't worry, Sheik Amar's gonna come back soon. Hey he's got a bet to settle and I'm sure he's got some left over supplies from Persian Vegas as someone called it.**

**Okay I did my part, now its time for you to do yours! We're still going at the 1 chapter a day thing, so you guys keep reviewing and we are going to take this awesome train all the way. **

**So please review!**


	23. Chapter 23

**I got a review today that kind of caught me off guard. But I imagine some of you are wondering the same thing so I thought I would take this moment to clear up some confusion: I do not have a set number of reviews I require for every update and I would never withhold a chapter from you all while waiting to fulfill some kind of quota. I find that insulting to the people who took the time to review. Its like saying because they did not reach some magic, made up number their reviews aren't good enough. I don't know, that just irks me. So while I adore your reviews, there no number i wait for before posting the next chapter. **

**These chapters come up as fast as I can write them. Because you know how you guys get excited about a new chapter? Well I do too! I love updating stories and continuing the adventure! And continued it is! You all were making a big fuss about no D/T, well here it is! D/T! (and probably a future R-rated scene in some other kind of story). Oh and the return of Amar. **

**SO enjoy!**

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By the time Dastan and Tamina arrived at the temple, the others were already gathered inside.

If anyone had any feelings on the fact that both Tamina and Dastan's hair were wet with water, they knew far better than to voice them. Tus had required the least cleaning of the brothers, the most noticeable change in him was the white clothing he now wore. The stubble that had begun to show on Garsiv's cheeks was gone. His dark hair had been pulled back into a loose tail at the base of his neck. The last traces from the desert were gone from Bis's skin, though if any attempts had been made at taming his unruly hair, the woman who had attempted it had seen it as a fruitless exercise and given up. Not that she would be the first. Bis's hair was, well, as unruly as every other part of the man. After the bath she had let the healers in to properly bind his wounds. Now his injured arm was bound in a sling, freeing his other. Tamina stood before the four of them, looking every inch the Guardian she was.

"You have been brought here, before the guardians to share in the secret and the power of the Dagger," she said, looking at the four of them in turn.

Tamina told them the tale of the Dagger the promise of the Gods. To their credit, their faces all remained blank as they listened to her words. She told them of the first Guardian who bartered her life for the Sands. Their connection to the Dagger was strong, her words did not seem far fetched as she told them of what lay underneath the city of Alamut and how the power below their feet would be enough to ensure two of them had never been born and the other two remained in the gutters of the Captial. When she finished her tale, Tamina met each of their gazes in turn. One of the women seemed to appear next to her, holding out one of the dishes of oil to Tamina who accepted it with a nod of thanks. Tamina held the shallow dish of oil in her palm, walking to Tus first.

"Will you accept the blessing of the Dagger?" she asked.

"I will," Tus answered without hesitation, bowing his head and spreading his hands.

Dastan watched as Tamina drew the stars on his hands and forehead, as she had done for him before resting her hand on the crown of his head. No-one spoke as they stood silently for a moment, their eyes shut. Tus opened his eyes first, Tamina opened hers moments later, drawing her hand back before moving on to Garsiv. She performed the same ritual with him and then finally with Bis. Each time the men opened their eyes they seemed more at peace than when the ritual began. Dastan remembered how he had felt when Tamina had given him the same blessing. No sooner had he thought such a thing Tamina stood in front of him.

Dastan gave her an apologetic smile, looking at his bandaged hand before holding out his good reached up and drew the oil on his forehead. Moving her hand down she drew the design on his palm. Dastan lowered his head as her fingers came to rest on the crown of his head. Dastan closed his eyes, letting the feeling of peace wash over him. He found it strange how something as simple as the smell of the oil and incense in the Temple to a weapon that had brought him nothing but trouble none the less made him feel startlingly at peace. When he opened his eyes, Tamina's hand withdrew from his head. Gently she lowered it to her side, her eyes rising to meet his.

Tamina held his gaze with her own before stepping back and looking at three other men.

"Go with the blessing of the Temple."

The three of them turned and walked out of the temple. Tamina remained standing in the center, her eyes on Dastan. He stood there even as his brothers filtered out. With a soft sound the doors to the temple closed behind them and the two guardians standing nearby walked forward to hide the space. They formed a ring of hooded figures with the tabernacle, Tamina and himself in the middle. Tamina looked at him as the woman, Sahar, moved forward to stand beside her, a length of fabric in her hands that Dastan imagined held the Dagger.

"It is the burden of those who use the Dagger to carry with them the memory of the time they have changed," she said, "but it is not one you need carry alone."

She looked up at the figures gathered there and Dastan followed her gaze. Each was sworn to do exactly what he had done: protect the Dagger. Though he had made it clear that he would pick Tamina over the Dagger every time, he had managed to keep it safe. And to keep her safe as well. In a strange way he was bound to the people there as something more important than Tamina's husband. He understood the burden they carried better than even they did. He had seen the threat through to its final end and he knew the destruction the Dagger could cause firsthand.

"Will you submit yourself to the High Temple and the will of the Guardian? To protect the Sands of Time and the Dagger that unlocks them from all who would use them for their own will?"

Dastan looked at her. Tamina met his gaze, not sure of what he would say. Her features remained blank as no intent shown on his face. For a moment she was sure he was going to tell her no and storm out of the Temple. But after a moment he nodded his head. When he spoke his voice was sure, carrying to all who stood gathered there.

"I will protect the Sands, the Dagger," he said, emphasizing the cursed knife, "and the Guardian," he continued, his eyes softening as they looked at her,"from all who mean them harm."

At his words Tamina felt hard pressed not to glare in exasperation. She should have known Dastan would find a way to remind her of his promise to keep her safe. To choose her over the Dagger. Even in taking the vow of a guardian he still managed to be infuriatingly charming. She only just managed to keep her smile off her face as she looked at the guardians gathered there before turning back to Dastan. Despite all he felt concerning the Dagger, he was still willing to do this. To do it for her and for her beliefs. In some ways that was the greatest show of his feelings for her. Tamina held her hand out palm up, sliding her hand underneath his.

She laid her other hand on top of his, her fingers wet with the oil. There were no designs on this time as she drew her fingers outwards, each of hers lining up with his. The oil covered his skin, dripping onto the floor. Tamina accepted the Dagger from Sahar, her hand holding the back of Dastans in her palm as her other laid the tip of the Dagger against the pad of his thumb. The blade was not sharp. Tamina had to press it firmly against his skin. Even so Dastan barely felt pain as she broke the skin of the pad of his finger with the blade. His blood welled up, staining the ornate engravings on the blade. Dastan watched as his blood filled the engravings of the blade. Tamina placed the blade in his hand, his cut thumb resting against the jewel of the hilt as the blade itself laid across his forearm.

Tamina led him over to the tabernacle, standing so that he could see as she opened the doors to reveal the pedestal where the Dagger rested. Even in the dim light of the evening the pedestal seemed to glow. Tamina moved in front of it. She held out her hands and Dastan moved his hand to transfer the Dagger to Tamina's hands. She accepted the Dagger gently, holding it in both her hands. She turned to the pedestal transferring the Dagger to its proper place before closing the doors and stepping back, turning around to face Dastan.

"You are now a guardian of the Dagger," she said, "may your path be clear and the Gods keep you safe."

After a moment of silence, the ritual seemed to be complete. The guardians filed out, leaving the two of them alone. They stood in silence for a moment before they too left the temple. Tamina led him down the stairs. They got to the bottom of the stairs before Tamina turned around to look at him, her eyes dancing. Dastan could feel the oil on his skin and hair but he could only imagine how silly he must have looked. But Tamina seemed so relieved that he had gone along with the ritual and not created yet another conflict in their short marriage that he could not bring himself to be annoyed at the absurdity of the rituals he seemed to be participating in as of late.

"Come with me," Tamina said, leading him down a different corridor.

She led him through a series of brightly lit corridors that slowly began to look familiar. Finally the arrived at a door that Dastan remembered being outside a few days earlier. He looked at Tamina who walked to the door and he knew that this was the room where they had almost consecrated their marriage. The room that would be theirs. Pushing open the door, Dastan looked into the room. It was far more simple than he would have thought, which immediately made him feel better. Walking all day in such an ornate palace was bad enough, if the one room where he was to be himself was covered in gilt and glamour he thought he would go mad. There was wealth here, to be sure, but it was a whisper rather than the shout of the rest of the palace. His eyes easily found the possessions that had been brought from the palace in Persia, the polished but worn objects dark in the creme and shine of the room. Dastan stepped forward fully, his feet quiet on the smooth stone of the floor. He turned around as Tamina softly closed the door behind her.

"Its strange, isn't it?" she asked looking around the room.

"Well its no ramshackle hut with ostriches running outside," Dastan said with a smile, though he was surprised to find his voice hoarse with disuse.

"That it is not," Tamina agreed, looking up at him before falling silent.

He seemed at home in the room, in _their_ room. And he had just sworn himself to protect the Dagger-and her. She should have known that he would find a way to remind him of his promise to keep her safe above everything else. Even after he had done suffered so much for the Dagger and his destiny, even after she had left him in so many places, he was still there. He had still stayed with her when any sane man would have run as far from her as possible. Had it really only been so few days ago that she had been sickened at the idea of marrying him? That she had fled the garden in tears when he told her the truth? She looked up as Dastan walked back over to her.

"What is it?" Dastan asked.

Tamina looked down at the floor, her lip catching in her teeth. She seemed torn between something, torn between giving in to what she wanted and keeping silent. Dastan watched her. There were no Hassansin or thieves after the Dagger or any of the things that would give urgency to the situation. And yet it was hard for Dastan to keep silent and wait for her to come to her own decision. Dastan's one consolation was that it was doubtful Tamina was going to run off. As she looked at the ground, Tamina gathered her courage as best she could before raising her eyes up and looking at the man. But when she looked at his face, she did not feel worried or upset about how he would react.

"I think that I love you," she said, her voice steady and bright.

Dastan stared at her, shocked how easily she had said it. There was no hint of guilt or whisper of a confession like the first time she had told him she cared for him. She did not say she loved him like it was some great shame. Tamina looked up at him, her eyes shining. He had voiced his love first, she knew he felt the same. But she had confessed her love for him. After all they had been through the sound of the words on her lips seemed to lift some burden he had not known he was carrying. Dastan felt a smile on his own face at the words.

"Do you now?" he asked, his one good hand reaching out and cupping her shoulder.

"Yes," Tamina said raising her chin almost defiantly, "unless you've changed your mind about being in love with me?" she asked.

"Considering I'm covered in oil and just took an oath to protect that god cursed knife of yours, I'd say I'm still in love with you."

"And I suppose you would like to forget that that 'gods cursed knife' as you call it is the reason I met you."

"Oh I'm sure if it hadn't been that knife there would have been something else that would lead me to scale the walls of your city and open the gate that no-one else could," Dastan said.

"How very modest you are," Tamina said, 'its a wonder its taken me this long."

"This long to what?" he prodded, his eyes softening in a way Tamina was beginning to think they only did for her.

Though Tamina fought to look stern the smile that tugged at her was entirely too full to be hidden. Even in confessing love she still managed to be both the most infuriating and the most enthralling woman he had ever laid eyes on.

"To tell you that I might be in love with you?" she asked.

"Well that is a relief," Dastan said with a smile, "because I think I am definitely in love with you," he said leaning forward.

"Show off," Tamina accused, closing the last distance between them and pressing their lips together.

The kiss was gentle, sweet even as they stood in the privacy of their bed chamber. There was nothing but the gentle breeze and the soft sound of the gardens outside their windows. Dastan's hand was warm and gentle on the skin of her arm. Even if the kiss began gentle, it did not stay that way for long. The moments between breathless gasps for air became longer as they lost themselves to each other, the need to feel more of the other fast becoming too much. Suddenly the bandages that wound around their hands and the injuries that still weighed on their bodies seemed to be the most inconvenient things.

Somehow they made it over to the bed and Dastan felt Tamina's hands on his chest. With a gentle push she got him backwards. Dastan sat heavily on the bed as Tamina came to stand between his legs, bent over so that her dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. Her fingertips gently touched his chin, lifting his head to hers. Slowly she moved forward, past his lips to the skin of his cheek. Her lips softly pressed to the scar on his cheek. Dastan felt his breath catch in his throat at the feel of her lips on the faded wound. Her lips brushed against his skin, trailing a path from the scar to his lips before capturing them once more.

Her unexpected boldness sent a thrill through Dastan, though whether it came from being back in Alamut, not having lost him or some other thing unknown to him, he could not say. All that he knew was the feel of her soft hands, still slick with the oil, on his skin was going to very possibly drive him mad. It did not help matters that he had one hand bound to his chest with the sling the healers had applied. He hated being restricted, especially when faced with a stretch of time alone with Tamina.

For her part Tamina found she was more than happy to be the one towering over Dastan. Even if they were not in the ramshackle hut with illegal ostrich racing going on outside their curtained doorway, she found the familiarity of their surroundings to be almost intoxicating. More than that, she felt as if she had some control on the situation, though her heart still raced when her knee brushed the inside of his thigh. The feel of his lips on hers, the touch of his calloused hand, all of it was familiar and all of it made her blood race.

With another press of her hand, Tamina had Dastan on his back on the bed. One of her knees pressed into the bed between his legs as she leaned over him, her lips warm and soft against his own. Dastan's hand came up and slipped through her hair, taking the weight of the heavy dark locks into his hand. Tamina was mindful of his injuries as she took her weight onto her hands and her knee, her chest lightly pressing against his. The light, careful touches were in some ways more maddening than the heated embraces they had shared in the past, though both knew for the moment those were out of the question.

This time as they came together there was no bittersweet edge to their touches and embraces. Every sting of their injuries was a reminder of just how close they had come to loosing one another, though most of the time when their breath caught it was for an entirely different reason. If their first night together had been an exploration of each other, a first glimpse behind the facades they put up in their every day life, then their second time was a rediscovery. Dastan did not touch her as though he was afraid she would fade away or disappear, only as though he wanted her to be in his arms forever. And as her body reacted to him, Tamina found she was more than happy to comply with the desire.

Afterwards they lay together, Tamina's warm weight laying the side of his good arm. Her fingertips traced a light pattern around the bruising on his ribs. His usual armor kept the majority of scars off his chest, but there were a few. Lucky shots or shots that had been taken when he was out of his armor. A few older scars were from before he even knew one day he would wear armor, back when he was a street rat running around the capital scrounging for coins to buy food. He had been injured many times before but even though Tamina claimed not to have cared for sick men, her fingertips were careful never to press too hard into his skin or to touch the bruises themselves.

"Its strange," she said finally, breaking the silence that settled over him.

"Gods I hope you're not talking about what we just did," he said looking at her.

"No," Tamina said ducking her head in embarrassment before looking up at him, "I find it strange how quickly everything has happened," her fingertips paused on his chest, "the other night i felt as though I could barely stand after all we had done and yet you managed to stay on your feet, defeat your uncle _and_ save all of Alamut," she frowned before her eyes widened, "and propose to me."

"Well," Dastan said, "Tus, actually defeated my uncle and I had a fair amount of help in saving Alamut," he smiled disarmingly at her, "and I did drop to my knees when I proposed to you."

"Yes and I distinctly remember you stumbling over your words as well," Tamina replied evenly, "but really, how did you not just fall apart after all you had done?"

Dastan's eyes became serious, serious in a way that Tamina had only seen a handful of times before. A part of her wanted to bring back the charming spark in his eyes but she forced herself to be quiet and wait for him to speak. She had not turned back time and yet the weight of all she had done was monumental. And she had yet to explain her actions to the High Council which would be an ordeal in itself. Her fingertips laid flat against his chest, the strong, steady beat of his heart echoing through her hand as she waited for him to reply. Finally he seemed to gather his thoughts well enough to do so.

"In the beginning I was so relieved at seeing you all alive, it was enough to get me by," he looked at her, "surely you saw the way I looked at you that day we supposedly met."

"I did find it strange," she said, "but given the attack, I brushed it aside," she looked at her hand on his chest, "And of course the nightmares made me think something was going on. But really I did not being anything of it until we went riding."

"Until we went riding?" he repeated, drawing her eyes back to him.

"Yes," she said, "whenever we went riding you would always ride slightly in front of me. As though at the barest sign of an attack you would leap from the saddle and throw yourself in front of me," the throbbing in Dastan's shoulder made denial anything but possible, "that was when I began to think that there was a reason for your behavior," Dastan nodded, "but you have not answered my question."

"As I said," he said, "in the beginning it was enough to see you all alive. And when it was not, when I thought it was too much, you confronted me-"

"You must have hit your head," Tamina said, "because it was _you_ who confronted _me._"

"When it got to be too much," Dastan continued, ignoring her interruption, "you were there," she looked at him confused, "sometimes the most comforting thing is to know we do not have to bear our burdens alone."

Tamina could not argue with the logic behind his words. She had told him something similar when bringing him into the fold the guardians. Even when she had convinced herself that returning her life was the best thing for the Dagger and the world, every step had been delayed as she looked for him in the shadows of the temple. In some way she supposed they would forever be at odds, her devotion to her beliefs and her love for the man whose chest she lay on, but trying to deny one for the other would mean nothing but trouble. Tamina exhaled, her breath blowing against Dastan's chest as she looked back up into his bright eyes.

"You really are nothing like I would have expected my husband to be," Tamina said finally.

"I could say the same of you," Dastan said.

"That I am not like how you expected your husband to be?" Tamina teased.

"Well now that you mention it," Dastan began as Tamina laughed at the falsely serious expression on his face.

Sitting up, Tamina reached down to the foot of the bed and snagged the blanket that had been placed at the foot of the bed. Neither had thought to move the sheets from underneath their bodies as they lay against the bed. Tamina pulled the blanket up around their bodies as she lay back down, though she knew the heat from their bodies would be more than enough to ward off the chill of the night. But the blanket would give them at least some kind of modesty. Pulling the blanket up, Tamina settled herself back in her spot against Dastan's chest. His good arm wrapped around her shoulders, his hand settling on her ribcage as he pulled her close against him.

"You don't suppose that tomorrow all our problems will be gone and we can just spend the day in here?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Oh I"m sure I could come up with some excuse," he offered, "perhaps that knife-"

"Dagger," Tamina corrected.

"Knife," Dastan said stubbornly, "is just too exhausting and we have to stay here all day? Or maybe your bedridden husband requires constant attention-"

"Attention that also makes me bedridden?" Tamina supplied.

"If you don't want to hear my ingenious plans for keeping us in this room tomorrow then by all means, keep interrupting," Dastan said.

"Is that a threat I hear?" Tamina asked, raising an eyebrow at him, "though I suppose it does not matter. I doubt any excuse would stall a man like Sheik Amar-or the High Council for that matter," she yawned into her hand, "both of whom can be infuriatingly stubborn."

"How unfortunate," Dastan said, looking down.

Tamina nodded sleepily against him, her eyes already closed. With the pale light from the moon and the warm light from the candles in their room painting her skin, she looked almost other worldly. But the weight of her against his chest was soft and warm and real and served only to make her impossibly more lovely. Dastan could feel her breath against his chest begin to even out, sleep slowly pulling at her. He moved his thumb against her skin but she did not stir against him. Dastan let out a breath, allowing his own body to relax fully against the bed. He looked down at the inky hair that spread across her shoulders and onto his chest, immensely glad that whoever made such decisions decided not to have her braid crystals into her hair. Dastan finally let his own eyes close, feeling sleep tug at him as well.

He hoped she would be there in the morning.

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**Will Dastan EVER get to wake up with Tamina where she's not trying to tie him to the bed? Lets hope so. Okay so next chapter we're gonna bring the plot and the fluff back together! As one big conglomerate of awesomeness! We've got councils and Hassansins and Amar finally comes back into play. Oh and I'll tell you all the old hag's name and why she gets to abuse Amar like she does. **

**So please review! **


	24. Chapter 24

**Brace yourself people. Sunday and Monday might not get updates. Sunday is, obviously, fathers day and I don't think I'm gonna be in front of a computer. Monday I'm kinda running around across two states so we'll see how that goes. I'll try to get one update in between the two days. I know its sad but I got stuff that needs to get done. **

**Animefreak, I have seen Meet the Robinson but I didn't think there was much potential for a fic there. I also don't really like fics that are totally on humor or family so I don't think that it'll work out. But thanks for the suggestion. **

**Now back to the story!**

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"I knew that wife of yours was making a fuss," Sheik Amar pronounced, "men like you, they're much harder to kill," he flashed a grin, "if you ever get tired of all of this and want a job, I could use a man like you."

Sitting in the room with the Sheik, Dastan smiled and shook his head. He may have preferred the dusty streets of Amar's city to the polished facades of the palace but he was not foolish enough to think that there was any kind of life for him in the Valley. Each time he had gone there he had been running and always, it seemed, to protect something. If had been a younger, and unmarried man, Dastan imagined he would have enjoyed the beauties that lived in the Valley. But even the memory of finally waking up next to Tamina was enough to erase any thoughts of other women's beauty.

"Well I thank you for that," he said finally, "but I think I've got enough to do here."

"Yes I suppose you do," Amar said, "so what do I owe you for saving Seso's life?"

"Nothing," Dastan said, "you saved Taminas life. Consider this a trade."

"Oh no," Amar said, "you paid me for saving your wife's life. And whatever you may think of her value, I'll tell you in a marketplace that suite of yours is worth more than she is."

Dastan stared at him, torn between horror at being told a wedding suite was worth more than Tamina and more horror at the fact they were having this conversation at all. Amar, on the other hand, mistook his horror for curiosity and began to explain.

"Girls-and people in general-are just harder to sell. It depends on what they can do, if they have all their teeth, how good a mood everyone is in that day," he waved a hand, "too many variables. Goods, however, you have a little haggle room but a good thing is a good thing and you can only haggle so much-"

"Really it was nothing to save his life," Dastan said quickly, "and without his skill I doubt I would have made it back to Alamut," he looked at Amar, "we are even."

He was careful not to speak of being in debt to Amar. Though Amar had not spoken of Seso owing him his life, Dastan could only assume the Sheik would use the same tact to get others to be loyal to him. And while Dastan liked Amar fine, he was not in the mood to become indebted to the Sheik. Amar seemed to be considering his words, his hand stroking the beard on his chin as he looked at the Prince. Finally the man gave a nod of consent, seeming to arrive at the same conclusion: that they were even. Dastan breathed a sigh of relief, returning the smile that twisted the Sheik's lips.

"You know I had a feeling about you," Amar said, "it takes a certain kind of man to ride into the Valley and blackmail a man of my reputation," Amar grinned at him, "that gypsy's a useful crone, eh?"

Dastan coughed and nodded, fighting not to look guilty. When Amar had asked for an explanation, he had given him one. Not the truth about how he knew what he did. No, he told Amar that he had run into a group of gypsies and let his mind jump to the conclusion that they were the same gypsies that had sold him the skeletons he hung out front. Dastan shoved any guilt he felt to the back of his mind. Tamina was right, the fewer people who knew about the Dagger the better. And though it pained him to think such a thing, he knew that before long Amar would return to his embezzling ways in the Valley. The less he knew about the Dagger the safer they all were.

Neither of them noticed Seso until the Ngbaka stood before them. Dastan looked up at him as Amar swore, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Good God man! Make some noise next time would you?" he demanded, "your silence is going to kill me one day."

Seso gave no response. His own arm had been treated but he seemed to have more use of the limb than Dastan did. Whatever the healers had put him in had been swapped out for his usual garb, the colors almost alarmingly bright in the pale walls of the palace. With neat movements the Ngbaka seated himself next to them on the floor, folding his legs underneath his body. His hands did not move to help with his balance as he got himself settled and Dastan realized that even doing the simplest of tasks Seso preferred to keep his hands free in case he needed to fight.

"Hows your arm doing?" Dastan asked Seso.

"It is fine," Seso said, his voice softer and a good deal nicer than his short answer would have made it seem, "only one of the darts that struck me was poisoned and I did not have the misfortune to take on a whip master."

"What can I say?" Dastan said with a smile, "I think I had used up all my luck that day."

Amar laughed aloud at that but the smile that curved Seso's lips was far more surprising. The Ngbaka had not said why he had followed Dastan into the desert but Dastan was beginning to think he would never explain it to him. It just did not seem to be Seso's way. And Dastan had learned that when one kept secrets it was best not to push the people involved too hard, lest they discover what you kept hidden from them. Somehow he did not think that telling Seso about what had happened to him during the time that had not come to pass. They sat quietly for a moment before a loud voice interrupted them.

"Amar!" the loud voice of the old hag echoed down the hallway.

"What?" Amar hollered back.

"Don't 'what' me you worthless sack of meat! Get over here!"

"I'm coming you old hag!" Amar shouted back before turning to Dastan "I swear if she wasn't my sister-my much _much_ older sister, mind you-I'd have her tied to an ostrich and dragged out of the Valley."

Dastan looked at him, one eyebrow raised in an expression that looked frighteningly like his wife. Amar rolled his eyes and stalked down the hallway after the old hag leaving Dastan alone with Seso. Dastan looked over at the Ngbaka. Seso looked at him, the marks on his forehead raising as he lifted his eyebrows at the sight of the Sheik stalking down the hallway after his ancient aunt. Dastan was surprised to find they were related, though he supposed it made sense. He doubted that Amar would put up with such words from anyone else. As they stood there watching the others depart, Bis came up at a quick run.

"Alright Tamina's in with the Council," he said, "if you want some alone time with your crazy eyed friend we'd better get a move on."

Dastan nodded, getting to his feet. He looked back at Seso who silently got to his as well. Bis had been instructed to come and get him the moment Tamina left for the High Council. Despite his faith in his wife's abilities to outwit the Hassansin, Dastan wanted to speak to him before he managed to manipulate Tamina into a deal. But he knew that so long as his arm was in a sling Tamina would not let him within ten feet of the Hassansin and his brothers would be more than happy to assist her in keeping him 'safe'. Fortunately he had been using Bis to outwit his brothers for a very long time.

"What can you tell me about him?" Dastan asked.

"Well he's dangerous and insane," Bis began.

"Basics, Bis, I need basics. Things he would not want anyone to know."

"Basics," Bis repeated, as though finding something in his mind, "basics, alright, his name is Zolm. The one who did this to you all was named Setam. But from what I've heard, Setam answered to Zolm."

"Do you think guilt will help?" Dastan asked.

"No," Bis said, "the man's a manipulative bastard from what I can tell. He knows that he's useful. And he only thing worse than when they're useful is when they _know_ they're useful."

"Useful how? We're all fine."

"Well according to what your brother's turned up in your uncle's papers they found there might be another Den of Hassansins," Bis said, "and that Hassansin Zolm is the best shot we have of finding them before they decide to go after the Dagger."

Dastan looked at Bis as they made their way down the hallway. He was right, if the Hassansin knew that he was useful he'd make the most out of it. He already had ensure that everyone else did the dirty work and yet he was the only one to survive. Immediately that told Dastan something. The Hassansin wanted to make it out of this alive. Dastan knew he could use that. But first he needed to figure out why the Hassansin would change from working for his uncle to working to further his own means. As they walked down the hallway, Seso broke the silence.

"Are you sure you wish to do this my friend?" Seso asked looking at him, his dark eyes moving over Dastan's face.

"I am tired of these games," Dastan said, "if he's going to be of any use we have to make it clear we're not just going to wander into some trap on a suicide mission."

Seso nodded silently, taking on the quiet that he so often exuded. Bis too was silent. Together they walked the rest of the way to where the healers were sitting with the Hassansin. At the door Seso turned and faced the hallway, one of his hands resting on his knives in a silent promise of protection. Dastan nodded to him before walking into the room with the healers, Bis on his heels. It was largely deserted, the healers having apparently decided the Hassansin was in no immediate danger of dying. At least, not as immediate as their danger of death was while being near him. Dastan walked over to the curtained area and pushed the fabric aside, stepping into the room where the Hassansin lay. Bis stayed outside the door. For the first time without the threat of imminent death, Dastan looked at the Hassansin.

Chains still bound his hands but Dastan had no illusions about how quickly the Hassansin would be out of them when the time was right. His dark hair was shorter than Dastan would have thought, the color stark against his pale skin. The scar that marred his cheek was much larger than Dastan would have though, the raised skin reaching down his throat and dissappearing through the neck of the loose shirt he wore. It was odd to see the Hassansin in the garb of those who had been treated by the healers. Dastan looked at the Hassansin. The King's secret killing force had still been in place when he had been adopted. He had seen the Hassansins on rare occasions and both he and Garsiv had snunk in and hid high in the room when his father had summoned the leaders there to inform them of their disbanding. There had been no children in attendance and even if there were it was not as though the scarred creature in front of him resembled what he had once looked like.

But looking at the unscarred side of the man's face, it struck Dastan that the Hassansin in front of him could not have been more than a handful of years older than him, not even as old as Tus. It was unsettling to think that a man could be so warped, so cold, and yet not have lived long enough to even have as many wives as his brother. If the Hassansin had any thoughts about Dastan staring at him, he did not voice them. Nothing showed on his face and if there was emotion hidden in the odd blue eyes that looked at him, Dastan could not see it. He wondered if other had felt off put by the deadened look in the Hassansins face. He knew it was a lie. He had seen the man with anger and wickedness plain on his features. He had watched the man fight with a smile that spoke of nothing but taking pleasure in the pain his weapons caused. He had seen the perfectly in control man in front of him loose such a thing.

And both of them knew it.

If the Hassansin remembered his death than surely he remembered loosing his control at Dastan and Tamina. Between his brothers and Tamina, Dastan knew that people who prized control as much as the Hassansin in front of him did strongly disliked having that control taken away. And they really did not like it when such instances when they lost control were thrown back in their faces. Looking at the Hassansin in front of him Dastan knew that anger wouldn't get him anywhere. The man had almost killed Tamina and if it were up to him, Dastan would wring his neck for it. But if he could help them, if he could give them the information that would get them to the last of the Hassansins, then Dastan knew he had to resist the urge to do kill him with his bare hands. So Dastan did the only thing he could, he dragged a chair up beside the Hassansin and straddled it, fixing the man with the most infuriating grin he could manage.

"I have to say," Dastan said, "I'm shocked you are still here. I thought you would be long gone by now," the Hassansing gave no reply, "I know you arrangement with my wife," Dastan continued, "and while I may want to see you dead for being loyal to my Uncle, your attempted murder of the Princess is not actually enough to get you sentanced to execution here in Alamut."

The Hassansin's eyes narrowed so slightly it could have easily been overlooked, but Dastan saw did not like having his skill downplayed. He hated being told that he was not as evil or accomplished as he considered himself to be. The man in front of him had masterminded the attacks. He had trained snakes to do his bidding. He was possibly the most skilled adversary Dastan had come across. And yet no blood had been spilled by his own hand. Not this time, not in the time that had not come to pass. They both knew it, just as they both knew how much the Hassansin disliked being told that he had not accomplished what he had set out to do in the most terrifying and bloody way possible.

"I suppose we could have put Setam on trial-attempted assasination of two princes is enough to have you executed in Persia-but Garsiv took care of him," Dastan shrugged, "but you, well," Dastan smiled, "you didn't really kill anyone."

The Hassansin's features shut down, his face turning almost cold with blankness. He knew that Dastan was aware of his emotional slips and he adjusted accordingly. His seamless reaction was fast, but not fast enough for Dastan to be left ignorant of how to get a rise out of him. Dastan kept their eyes together, refusing to look away. He had made Tus smile, Garsiv blind with fury, he had even made Nizam snort with laughter once upon a time. He could break a Hassansin who was supposedly emotionless. Dastan looked at the odd eyes of the Hassansin, forcing any spark of fear or anger as far down as he could as he looked at the man who had not uttered a single word since he got there.

"My arrangement is with your wife," the Hassansin said finally.

"Somehow I doubt you are foolish enough to think I won't be involved," Dastan said. The Hassansin looked at him but said nothing, "tell me how long were you planning to stay loyal to my Uncle?"

"Which time?" the Hassansin asked.

The Hassansin looked at him but there was less coldness in his gaze. It was unsettling to think but Dastan knew that in some strange way the Hassansin understood what he felt. However the man had managed to remember what had transpired in the time Dastan managed to erase, he too carried the burden of knowing what had happened. Though Dastan imagined the future for the Hassasnsin if his Uncle became King would be far brighter than the one he found himself in. And yet he had not gone through with ensuring the Dagger was taken. Something had stopped him. Something Dastan was determined to find out.

"You really think there is a difference?" Dastan asked.

"No," came the low reply.

* * *

High above them in a circular hall, Tamina fought not to feel off put by the fact she was more or less on display for the men surrounding her.

It was tradition that dictated they sit in a circle, though her own place in the ring was now occupied by Sahar who acted as the highest ranking guardian. Tamina knew she was not there as a member of the Council, to listen to their words and heed their advice. She was there as a Priestess of Alamut who had taken the Dagger from its place in the tabernacle and fled into the night. She was the Guardian who had almost enacted a forbidden ritual, sacrificing her own life for the safety of the world. She had born witness to the slaughtering of the other guardians and now she knew of the Dagger's full use. She was accountable for all of it, though she knew her punishment would be purely ceremonial if there was any at all.

"Princess Tamina," the oldest of the men began, "you have been brought before this Council to be judged on your actions in removing the Dagger from the High Temple and abandoning your place in Alamut on the eve of your wedding," he looked around at the High Council, "you are of sound mind and fit to stand before us," he looked at her, "may your path be clear and the Gods keep you safe."

Tamina looked at them. She was there to be judged, that much was true even if she had been the one to summon the Council in the first place. The High Council dealt with matters of state, not of the Dagger. Only she could judge as the Dagger's Guardian. However, being the leader of Alamut she was accountable to the Council. It was not the first time she had stood before the Council and their judgement, nor did she think it would be the last. At the blessing she knew she was to begin her story. Steeling herself for what she was about to do, Tamina complied.

"I removed the Dagger from its place in the High Temple for fear of its safety," Tamina said, beginning her tale, "during the fight I was poisoned and rendered unconscious. I trusted Dastan, my new husband, to get us to the guardian Temple."

The old men looked at her, not even glancing at each other as Tamina continued.

"I was taken to the Valley of the Slaves where I received treatment for my wounds. I rode for the Temple as soon as I was able. Within an hour of my arrival the Hassansins struck. I was able to escape through the passageway-" Tamina stopped before continuing, "in Asma's home."

Her voice was steady but the rush of emotion at uttering her dead friend's name threatened to topple her composure. Even at the mention of only her name Tamina could clearly see Asma falling backwards, the light gone from her eyes as her blood began to spread across the floor of her house in a perfect mirror of the tea that spilled from the cup that had shattered when Tamina dropped it. But she kept her composure and her voice steady. She had never shown emotion to the men gathered before her and she knew today would not be the day she did.

"Upon my arrival in the Temple I was stopped by Prince Garsiv and Bis," she said, anger lacing through her at the looks the men gave at the sound of no title before Bis's name, "the men they commanded managed to kill the majority of the Hassansins. Their attack on the village had concluded. Only the five children were left alive," Tamina continued, "we left the temple and made our way back to Alamut."

"And you did not feel the Hassansins attack compromised the Dagger?"

"I did," Tamina said, "but the distance between our party and the temple was too great," she continued, "I deemed that staying with the group offered the Dagger more protection."

"What I don't understand," one man spoke, "is why you trusted your new husband so completely with this task," he looked at her critically before looking at the men gathered there, "how did he know where to go?"

Telling him would have been forbidden, she knew that. But lying to them and saying that she had told him would be better than giving the truth. And yet she knew she could not do that. Not when their position was so precarious, not when there could be yet another Den of Hassansins waiting to destroy them.

"Prince Dastan knew where to go," Tamina said, "because he had been there before."

The council room exploded with whispers.

The men gathered there were no fools. They knew exactly what she was saying. There was no time since Dastan had first come to Alamut for him to stumble across the secret guardian temple and they all knew that the most recent time she had left Alamut was the past few days. She had no time to show him the way to the temple beforehand. Tamina fought to keep her eyes ahead, looking at a spot on the wall rather than at the men who whispered frantically about what she was saying. She breathed in and out through her nose, refusing to let anything show on her face as the whispers raged before they died down.

"How long?" came the question. Not how long ago did Dastan do what he had, that did not matter. How long he rewound time, however, they wanted to know.

"A few days," Tamina said.

"Why have you held your silence?" the oldest man asked.

"Dastan acted as a true guardian of the Dagger, doing what was necessary in the face of those who would use its power for their own gain," Tamina said, "he has shown he is dedicated to protecting the Dagger and is a valuable asset to Alamut."

"How can you know he will not use the Dagger for his own gain? To be King of Persia and the ruler of Alamut?"

Tamina fought back the urge to tell them all to shut their mouths and not speak of things they did not understand. The idea of Dastan doing anything to harm Tus or Garsiv or her was preposterous. She had seen the effect the memory of his brother's death had on him. He would never want that, not again. Not for all the power in the world which, Tamina was certain, he would only use to find a way to bring them back.

"I have seen the burden my husband carries," Tamina said, "the burden of a time not come to pass," she looked at the man who asked the question, "he will not use the Dagger."

"How can you be sure?"

"Have I given you reason to question my judgement?" Tamina asked, fixing the man with her gaze, "is the Dagger not safe? The latest threat not defeated? Do we not have the armies of Persia now focused on our protection rather than our demise?" her eyes hardened, "Dastan will not use the Dagger for his own gain."

The men looked at her as if they did not believe what she was saying but Tamina refused to show she cared about how they felt. Ultimately all decisions regarding the Dagger were hers and if she had blessed Dastan as a guardian then his fate was hers to decide. Tamina held her tongue, letting their minds jump to all kinds of conclusions. If she entertained more accusations from them she was going to further their suspicions that she had compromised her duties as Guardian for her husband. She had not, but if they thought that either of their feelings had become a problem they would not hesitate to recommend action be taken to rectify the situation.

"Dastan is a guardian of the Dagger," Tamina said, her voice firm, "and as such, his actions in guardianship of the Dagger are mine to pass judgement on."

"Then we agree. Guardians are not judged here," the council member agreed, "Prince Dastans actions in kidnapping you however-"

"I am the one who convinced Prince Dastan to leave with me," Tamina cut him off.

"So you tell us that each of your actions have been in guardianship the Dagger?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And therefore cannot be judged by this council?"

Tamina only just caught her smile.

"If this honored council sees that none of my actions have been to harm Alamut or lead our fair city astray-"

"You removed the Dagger from its place in the High Temple and abandoned your position on the eve of your wedding night," the old man cut her off, "you have explained your actions, now we will confer."

Nodding to the men gathered there, Tamina left the room and walked out of the hall with rage pounding through her, though her face remained serene and her head held high. That was certainly not the worst a meeting of the High Council had gone. Standing in front of those old men was never fun. Sahar, who as a guardian had no place with the Council past a ceremonial one, fell into step behind her, silent and unreadable as always. She made no comment on the slaughtering of the other guardians anymore than she commented on the staggering news that the Dagger had been used to its full potential. Tamina was grateful for the silence, silence she sorely needed after hearing those men speak of things they did not know.

As they walked down the hallway, Tamina looked up to see the familiar figure of Seso standing outside the door to the healers. Tamina's feet slowed, her eyes taking in his brightly clad form. The anger she felt began to dissipate, replaced by a feeling of cold dread as she looked at him. If he was standing outside the door, the faint glimmer of his knifes in his sleeves shining in the light, then that could only mean he was guarding something. Something or someone. And Tamina knew that Seso was not guarding the Hassansins.

Which could only mean Dastan was speaking to him.

* * *

**Uh oh, Dastan better hurry. Maybe Bis can do some stalling? He's got that pick up line after all. Though hot, angry D/T might be kinda fun...**

**Okay so next chapter should be up sometime tomorrow and then hopefully the chapter after that will be up Sunday or Monday before we resume our regular updating on tuesday. **

**Yes I'm sure you're all aware that next week is the conclusion of this story. But don't be sad because I promise this isn't going to turn into some long, drawn out boring spiral downwards. We are going out with a bang worthy of fireworks! We've seen how D/T work when falling in love, lets see how much ass they kick now that they know they're in love. **

**So fasten your seatbelts and get read to defeat some bad guys! **

**(and maybe enjoy some more tasteful smut along the way) **

**SO please review!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Okay so people are asking how long this story is going to be and the answer is that I don't really know myself. See I have an ending planned, and a few other things I want to happen but I'm not sure how many chapters that is going to take. So I don't know how long its gonna be. But ZOMG did you see how long it IS? This story exists for me in a couple of thousand word chapters! But I looked at the word count today and I was like "holy crapola! Thats a long story!" How long are most novels? IDK but the sad thing is that this isn't even my longest story! **

**Thanks for the reviews you guys! You are awesome! And now here's the new update!**

**Now back to the story!**

* * *

Bis's eyes widened as he looked at Tamina and Sahar walking down the hallway towards him, looking every inch the Guardian Princess and her second in command. He could hear Dastan's murmur, sometimes he could hear the voice of the Hassansin though the sound of it never failed to send chills down his spine. But whatever was going on behind he curtain was nothing compared to the look in Tamina's eyes. Bis might not have known her well, but her knew her well enough to realize that the look in her eyes meant nothing good for Dastan. Of all the rotten places to be standing he had to be in between her and Dastan. And so, like he had done many times in the past, Bis stepped in the path of danger for his errant friend.

"Hello Princess," Bis said, "may I say you are looking especially lovely-"

"Get out of my way," Tamina said, looking at him.

"I actually can't do that," Bis said, "Dastan put me to guard for threats and, well-" he motioned to her as Tamina stepped forward.

"I am not going to stand here and argue with you," she said.

Bis moved to block her but in a surprisingly graceful show of speed, Tamina faked a right and before he could adequately recover she had sidestepped him and disappeared behind the curtain. Tamina heard Bis swear but her eyes immediately went to the two occupants of the room who looked at her with an eerily similar quickness. Still chained to the bed, the Hassansin's sharp, quick look immediately faded into the bored look she was used to seeing. Dastan turned to look at her but Tamina only held his gaze for a moment before looking back at the Hassansin.

"Where is the Den Zolm?" Tamina asked, not wasting her time on silly pleasantries with the an.

Zolm looked at her, his eyes sharp. He did not like her saying his name, that much was clear. As was the fact that Tamina did not really care what the man in front of her liked. Dastan did not respond to her intrusion, knowing better than to give any outward sign of emotion to the Hassansin. Tamina forced her gaze to remain on Zolm's eyes. Even with the drugs mostly out of his system his eyes remained bright and fevered, their gaze entirely unnerving. Tamina refused to look away from his eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had any effect on her whatsoever.

"In the sands," Zolm replied looking at her calmly.

"You are going to have to be more specific," Tamina said, forcing her voice to stay hard.

"You would not know how to find them," Zolm said, his eyes remaining on her, "I do."

Tamina looked at him, knowing all too well what he was saying. He would not give the location of the Den, but he knew where it was. He wanted to go with them. Everything about the situation screamed that it was a trap. That letting Zolm lead them to a Den of his fellow Hassansins was asking for nothing but a staggering amount of trouble. But Tamina also knew they had no choice. If he was not going to tell them ay other way, then there was nothing to do but allow him to lead them there and then what? Hope he did not lead them all to their deaths? Even if so far he had upheld his end of the deal with her, there was no garentee that he would continue to do so. That he would not see the gain in having everyone she sent to accompany him killed.

"How are we to know you will not join your fellow Hassansins and have every one of the men I send with you killed?"

"You know nothing of the Hassansin," Zolm said, his eyes flashing.

"And you have done nothing to remedy that," Tamina replied evenly, "how do I know?"

"If I were to kill you all," Zolm said, "it would mean my death," he looked at Dastan.

"You don't strike me as the kind of man who fears death," Dastan said.

"Dying twice is more than enough," Zolm said, his eyes returning to Tamina's.

"Its more than most get," Dastan said with a shrug.

Zolm looked at him and Dastan was fairly sure that there were two people in the room who both wanted him dead. After a lifetime spent as the King's adopted son, Dastan had become more than accustom to being the one who did not belong in a room. Swinging his leg around, he got to his feet and looked at the two people in the room, one whose anger was veiled by ice, the other veiled by boredom. It occurred to him to make the deal himself but he had a feeling Tamina would wring his neck for it. He looked over at the black haired priestess. Tamina gave him a long, hard look before turning back to Zolm.

"You asked for a purpose," she said, "here it is. You will lead us to the Den and you will ensure any men that come with you remain alive until they have passed the walls of Alamut."

"Your purpose is for me to betray my own,"" Zolm said.

Tamina's eyes flashed and for a moment Dastan looked as if he was going to have to restrain her. To Tamina, standing there and being accused of betrayal by a Hassansin was almost more than her thin temper could take. she was tired of being accused, first by the Council, now by the man in front of her. One of them had the right to accuse her, the other did not. Tamina's fingers curled, her nails biting into her palms as she stared at Zolm, forcing herself not to kill him. If nothing else she did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had gotten under her skin.

"Even I am not stupid enough to think you have any loyalty to the men in that Den," she said, her voice steady but sharp, daring him to contradict her. When he did not, she continued, "if you speak of loyalty again," she continued, "i will take you back to the catacombs myself and let you rot in the shadow of the Sands."

Zolm stared at her but they all knew the decision had been made. For all his prowess at secrecy, Zolm was not the type of man to enjoy being put to rust. He had told her of his training, they had seen the abilities he possessed. He had bartered the cure for a purpose. She knew that the idea of him being thrown into a dark pit to rot was not one he would like. Threats of death would not work on him, despite his words of not wishing to die more than twice in a lifetime. But being told he would be thrown aside to rot, that was something the hassansin would enjoy. Being forgotten, being erased from time, that was a punishment worse than any for a man like that.

"Bring few men," he said, "the more men the harder it will be to hide."

Withoutfac another word Tamina turned and walked out of the room, Dastan nodded to the Hassansin before following her. When they stepped around the curtain, Bis and Sahar were standing on either side glaring at the wall. Both turned as the curtain opened but one look at pair and the apologies and accusation that were about to spill from their lips fell silent. Tamina was silent as they walked back to the room, her head still pounding from both the Council meeting and what she had just witnessed in the room with Dastan and the Zolm. Still bandaged he was running off throwing himself in the path of harm and from the calm look on his face he found _nothing_ wrong with the situation. It was only when they got back to the room that Tamina began to speak fighting to keep her mind on the task at hand rather than her very strong desire to hit her head against the wall.

"We have some guardians with fighting skill-and I assume your men will be willing to help-then they will be able to make sure Zolm follows through with what he says-" she fell silent as Dastan offered no response.

Tamina looked at Dastan who seemed to find the wall absolutely enthralling. Ice began to spread through her veins. She had seen that look on his face before and each time he had done something stupid and heroic immediately after. There was only one opportunity that Tamina could see for Dastan to get into trouble worthy of his heroic stunts. Her eyes left his face, moving to his chest where the sling still cradled his arm. The idea was outlandish, and preposterous and yet Tamina had absolutely no doubt he was about to do it. In that moment Tamina sorely wished she had listened to the advice of her Council and taken a husband who was easily manipulative.

"You cannot be thinking of going with them," Tamina said, trying to force the feeling of dread that settled in her stomach aside. Dastan looked away, giving her all the confirmation she needed, "you're hurt!" she protested.

"I've fought with worse," Dastan said.

"Fought with worse?" Tamina repeated, her incredulous voice turning what Dastan had thought was a reasonable argument into an outlandish statement, "you can barely move your arm!"

"I took out an entire army on one leg once-" he began.

"Do not regale me with tales of your heroics," Tamina cut him off, her eyes flashing, "you cannot go to fight a Den of Hassansin with one arm strapped to your chest."

"How about behind my back?" he offered.

"And what about Garsiv and Seso?" she asked, ignoring his attempt at humor, "they are injured too. Do you think they will come along?"

"I'm expecting it," Dastan said.

"But you are all still recovering," Tamina said, thinking of how Garsiv had yet to move his arm and Seso's inflamed skin, "you cannot possibly think you would be able to fight-"

"It would not stop them," Dastan said.

Tamina stared at him, confusion in her eyes. She did not understand. Inwardly Dastan cringed. There were things about what he did, about who he was, that Tamina would never be able to understand. He was the first sick man that she had ever tended to. She knew nothing of the rush of battle, when the adrenaline coursed through you as you tried to fight past the madness and the insanity to accomplish the objective. She did not know what it felt like to watch men fall around you and know you had to keep moving. That the best you could give the fallen was to know their sacrifice was not in vain.

He had known that there would be a day when he would go back to fighting, when he would need to shed blood and she would not be thrilled with the idea. But he had not expected it to be so soon or to be with him still injured. He imagined that looking at it from her perspective the situation did seem quite he knew he would be out there fighting, same as Garsiv and Seso. Looking at her he knew he would have to give some kind of explanation, one that he had a suspicion she would not like to hear. She was strong, he knew that, but she was also not accustom to being in love with a man and then watching him go off to risk his neck.

Even as he looked at her he could see the anger and confusion in her eyes. And though a part of him felt guilty for how quickly his own temper rose, he knew she had to understand. She had to see what he was saying. This was the first time but he knew it would not be the last. He spent a lot of time on the battlefield and even if he was married and Alamut was where he would live, he knew that neither of his brothers would indulge him shutting himself within the protective walls of Alamut. Tamina looked at him, the confusion leaving her eyes as the anger took over.

"You would let them go fight after what happened?" Tamina demanded finally.

"No," Dastan admitted finally, "but its not up to me and I know they will both be there when we ride out."

"This is insanity," Tamina said.

But even as the words left her lips some small part of her recognized that she could shout at him until she was blue in the face, she could tie him to the bed, but when the people rode out to defeat the current threat to the Dagger, to Alamut, to Persia, he would be with them. She could think of every way he would go and she could counter it but he would still find some way to be on a horse riding out with them. It was infuriating to think that however determined and resourceful she was, he was as well. if her time with him had shown her anything it was that he would find a way to fight with the others. That one armed or no he would find a way to get out of the palace and join in on the fight.

But the question was, would he find a way back to Alamut?

The sling that bound his arm to his chest reminded her just how close she had come to loosing him. For a moment she wondered if she could enlist Tus in preventing him and Garsiv from leaving, but she immediately dismissed the thought. If Tus had a way to keep the two of them in the palace, she had a feeling he would have used it a long time ago. The worst part of it was that Tamina knew he was needed. The men they sent could get the job done, but she knew that Dastan would make the task much easier. Tamina fought not to shudder at the cold that seeped through her. Dastan could protect Alamut, and yet she found that the last thing she wanted was for him to go.

"And what about Tus? or Bis? Are they going to come as well?"

"Tus will stay here," Dastan said, "with my father," he shook his head, "he needs to stay here."

It was on her lips to ask what his father would think if he wound up getting himself killed in this raid but thankfully she saw the damage they would do. The betrayal and death of his brother had been a blow more crushing to King Sharaman than any his enemies could have conceived. And Tus's skillful handling of the situation in Alamut had convinced many that as the King retreated in mourning his son was ready to shoulder more responsibility in the kingdom. Unfortunately that meant Tus's days of running around leading conquering armies was becoming limited.

"But you need to go and risk your neck for this?" Tamina questioned, "are you going to run off and personally handle every threat that arises no matter how badly hurt you are in the process?"

"Yes," he said, "I will. The same as you would for the Dagger."

"And I am held accountable for such actions," she said breaking his gaze and looking away with a shake of her head before looking at him again, "you cannot run off and take care of every threat with your bare hands."

"No," he agreed, "but I can see this through to the end," he continued, "and I can make sure that the only Hassansin left is the one you were insane enough to make a deal with."

"A barter that saved your life!" Tamina shot back, "a life you seem far too eager to throw away," she added darkly, turning away from him and walking across the room.

Dastan let out a breath of frustration, running his hand through his hair. She had a point, which annoyed him. But he was not going to sit back and watch someone else do what he was not willing to accomplish himself. He had not won the respect of his men by sitting on his behind and commanding them. He had won it the same way his brothers had. By showing they were willing to get their hands dirty. Admittedly Dastan got dirtier than both his brothers combined, but the principal was the same. He could not leave though, knowing Tamina was infuriated at him. For some reason that seemed wrong.

Across the room Tamina began to undo the fastenings of the robe she wore, her fingers almost shaking with all the frustration she had acquired during the day. Normally days in Alamut were not as frustrating as the one she had suffered through. Being judged, bartering with murderers-it was almost enough to make her wish she was back in the desert where the problems were real and deadly. It was much better than listening to the snippiness of old men who judged things they had no understanding of.

As she fumbled with the clasps of the ornate cloak she wore, a hand stopped her. Tamina stiffened as the warmth of Dastan's chest lightly touched her back. Looking down she saw that he had discarded the sling he had worn, leaving him with the light bandages that covered the stitching on his forearm from the Hassansins whip. Using only the injured hand, Dastan undid the clasp of the cloak she wore, laying the garment open, his fingertips just trailing the exposed skin of her chest. Tamina glared at the wall as sparks danced across her skin.

Without warning, her hand streaked up and caught his.

Twisting around in his grip, Tamina faced him. He was close but she was furious and not in the mood to entertain her body's willingness to just fall into his arms. Not when he was talking about taking foolish risks. Not when his wicked lips and calloused hands could make her do almost anything he wanted. Clinging to the anger that pounded through her, Tamina glared at him.

"I swore I would protect you," Dastan reminded her.

"I do not like to be protected for your own glory," she snapped back.

"I do not fight for things as foolish and fleeting as glory," he said, anger in his eyes, "but if I did," he continued, the anger smoldering, "we both know I've already got more than enough to sit this fight out."

Tamina almost swore at the rush of heat that swept over her while Dastan looked at the woman who seemed to be even more enticing when she was infuriated. And infuriated she was, rose staining her cheeks and anger flashing in her eyes. The hand that gripped his wrist was warm and softer than he would have thought but the fingers that rested just above his bandages were tight. Dastan looked down at her, his eyes moving over her face, wondering if there was a more pleasant way to resolve the conflict. Tamina's hand suddenly released his as she moved forward to put space between them. She was quick.

Dastan was quicker.

His hand streaked out, wrapping around her waist and pulling her against his chest. Tamina's breath left in a rush as his fingers splayed across her stomach, his hand warm through the fabric of her robe. His grip was strong, strong enough that she had to look down to make sure it was still the hand with the bandages wrapping around his wrist. With her back flush against his chest, Tamina could feel the hard planes of his body and the steady beat of his heart. Only the bandages around his forearm reminded her that two days ago the man behind her had been near death.

"I am going to finish this," he told her, the vibrations of his chest as his deep voice reacher her ear sending heat rushing through her as his hand tightened against her stomach, "and then I will gladly throw myself on the mercy of the Guardian."

The way Dastan spoke her title made it incredibly hard for Tamina to remain upright. Dastan watched with fascination the way her eyes shut, her breath catching in her throat as her body leaned back against his. The bruises on his ribs ached but somehow the pain that laced across his skin was all the more pleasurable with her body against his. Her eyes snapped open abruptly, her body straightening and pulling away from him. She walked closer to the bed before he closed the distance between them. She turned around and looked at him.

"You aren't recovered enough for any of this," she said finally.

"Shall I show you how recovered I am?" Dastan asked.

Tamina looked at him, her eyes shadowed with lust. Gods, she knew she should be thinking of other things. Like how if her husband was truly determined to go off on this insane mission he should have a good nights sleep beforehand. How they could both use a full nights sleep rather than the lust their evening inevitably seemed to turn into. But she could feel the edge of the bed at the back of her knees and his body pressed against hers. Both of his hands were wrapped around her back, pulling her against him in a way that completely contradicted the light, teasing touches from their first night together in the room. This was warm and firm and far more like the first night they had shared back in the Valley.

So with a breathless nod, Tamina pulled him down to the bed and let him show her how quickly he recovered.

Hours later, when light first began to streak the sky, Dastan awoke.

Waking at dawn had never been a problem for him, not during his time as a street rat and not as a Prince when he woke before the palace to go running in the city. He could feel the even rise and fall of Tamina's chest, her breath gentle against his skin. Her dark hair spread out like a stain across his skin, as though he was somehow marked as hers. As he looked at her still features he wondered if leaving her like this was truly such a good idea, but the memory of the Hassansins and the threat they posed made him force himself up.

That and the knowledge that Garsiv and Bis were already won there and if he did not show up they would never let him live it down.

Tamina stirred softly when he moved but soon fell back asleep, her hand resting on the spot he had occupied on the bed. He looked at her for a moment, fully aware of what leaving her now would mean for them both. But it could not be helped. He would not let a risk to her safety and that of the city he was now sworn to protect exist. He was mindful of his hand as he dressed, knowing that he would need every ounce of strength in the limb. It was hard to do u the laces of his lightweight armor with one hand but he managed, taking care to be as silent as he could before leaving the room with a last look at his sleeping wife.

He made his way down to the stables. Aksh was already gone, Gariv apparently having had enough of his prize stallion being stolen. Dastan moved through the stables, looking for a suitable mount. He had never had a very good eye for horses and usually wound up riding whatever mount happened to be running by that day. It was not as though he spent a lot of time on the beasts. A tag sticking out of one stall caught his eye. There was no name on the slip of paper but Dastan knew it was intended for him. Especially when he recognized the surprisingly harsh lines of Garsvi's hand.

_For my foolish brother. _

_Hurry up. _

Smiling at his antics Dastan looked up to see the dark brown stallion in front of him, the horse's black mane resting smooth against his neck. He had already been saddled in preparation for the ride. Dastan held his good hand out and let the horse smell him before reaching up and stroking the bright white star on the stallion's forehead. The horse's nostrils flared as he batted Dastan's hand affectionately, obviously ready to get out of the stall. Taking the reins of the horse, Dastan led the stallion out of the stables towards where the rest of the party was gathered. He stepped into the pale light of dawn and froze.

Sitting astrid a white horse horse was Tamina.

For a moment Dastan did nothing but stare. She had been asleep when he left, clad only in a sheet. Now she sat astride a horse, dressed in loose but durable clothing, obviously designed for the abuse of the desert. The armor she wore was cut for her body, the dark bronze color bright against the worn scarlet of her tunic. Her dark hair was caught back in a tight braid that hung down her back. The most surprising thing to Dastan's eyes, however, was that now she was armed with both sword and a bow. He knew she had some skill with the weapons but they had always been used when she stole them from him.

"You did not really expect me to let you go on this insane mission alone did you?" Tamina asked raising an eyebrow at him.

Dastan looked up at her, still seemingly shocked and Tamina felt a jolt of delight run through her. She enjoyed shocking him. She knew he was going to try and get out without her knowing. But Tamina knew that the Hassanasin was going to need a constant reminder of just what he had promised. The idea to come along had been half formed in her mind, but when she had fully come to the conclusion it had not taken long to accomplish the task. It helped that the guardians kept a horse ready for emergencies, complete with two sets of armor, one for a man and one for a woman. And it had been far easier to throw on the worn clothing she wore rather than the endless layers of white she was usually decked out in. She had no doubt the Council would take this into account when they judged her, but Tamina found she did not care. She was not going to sit back in Alamut while they all risked their necks. Sahar would watch the Dagger.

"Weren't you just lecturing me on not doing insane and stupid things?" Dastan asked, swinging himself into the saddle.

"And weren't you just telling me I should do half the stupid, insane things in this marriage?" she asked glancing around, "considering I am one of the few people here not still recovering from a near death experience and the deal the Hassansin struck was with me, I would say you need me."

Dastan glared, first at her and then at Garsiv who shrugged his consent and Seso who looked intently at the ground and Bis whistled something with a tone cracked with fear. Beside them Zolm sat astride a dappled black and white horse, the chains removed from his wrists. He had been changed from the clothing he wore with the healers to a darker ensemble, though it was a far cry from the menacing black garb he had worn as a Hassansin. Zolm was a man smart enough to know that even if he was able to somehow get them all killed, there was nothing for him out in the sands that stretched around them. The only way for him to have any kind of future, any kind of purpose, was to lead them to the Den.

"Besides," Tamina said, "after much consideration I've decided I dislike tending to you when you are bedridden," she continued looking at him, "I prefer you recovered."

Garsiv seemed to choke on his own spit as Dastan stared at his wife. Ignoring them both Tamina looked up ahead at Zolm.

"We are all here now," she said, "lets go."

* * *

**Happy father's day everyone! **

**Now its time for me to go. I'll see you in a day or two before we return to our regular update pace. I know I'm sad about the story coming to an end too but I really wanna have it go out with a good time. I mean I'd hate for everyone to be like "oh its awesome but the end sucks" so I promise we're gonna have a good time from now til the end. **

**Lets keep the MBR going!**

**So please review!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey all! Miss me? **

**I missed you!**

**Group hug!**

***hugs***

**I'm sorry that there was an even longer delay but stuff came up. Okay before we get back to our regular programming, for the record, i would just like to say that the ONLY appropriate response WHENEVER someone tells you something is 'madness' is to tell them 'madness? this is Sparta!'. **

**Now back to the story.**

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"I don't like this,"

"Yes, Bis, you've made that clear."

"No, I really _really_ don't like this." Bis said.

"Bis when do you ever like anything?" Dastan demanded turning to look at Bis.

The sun was already past its highest point in the sky, beating down on them mercilessly. They had ridden for hours in the desert, the Hassansin leading them from Alamut towards a Den of other Hassanins who wanted them dead. And the only thing they had was Tamina's deal with the man. Tamina who was riding just behind Zolm armed like the rest of them and riding better than he and Dastan combined. Bis looked at the Princess and the Hassansin before turning back to Dastan who seemed perfectly at ease with the situation. But, then again, life threatening situations had never been something that made Dastan worried.

"When does anything you like not try to kill me?" Bis demanded, "or, failing that, at the very least put me in an inordinate amount of pain?"

Dastan rolled his eyes at Bis's antics. The complaining was familiar, comforting even. If they were on a mission with suicidal potential and Bis was not complaining Dastan knew they were really in trouble. But even for the trouble they usual got into, this was staggering. All around them the desert stretched endlessly. As they rode he had kept a rough idea of where Alamut was, though the journey would have been much easier if he had been in Persia. At the very least this time they were dressed for the journey, which was a small comfort but one he was grateful for none the less.

His arm seemed to have been cut off and replaced with fire. There was no other way to explain the burning ache that seemed to have taken over his skin. He had a feeling he was going to be doing this fight with his arm literally behind his back. Or strapped to his chest. But the thing that got to him was the plodding of the horse. He couldn't help but think that if he was on his feet he could at least compensate for the pain and tenderness of the limb. The horse, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to not care about his injuries and keep going as though nothing was wrong. Dastan _hated_ horses more than he ever had in his life at the moment when the Hassansins pulled his mount to a stop and they were forced to follow suite.

"Remind me again why we couldn't just walk across the desert?" Dastan said, gritting his teeth as the horse shifted his weight, his arm aching fiercly in response.

"Because your brother complains more than you do if he doesn't get his way," Bis replied, his voice low as they looked at the Hassansin.

If Zolm found it strange to have so many eyes on him, he did not show it. Seamlessly he swung himself off the horse and dropped to the ground. Though he seemed to make no effort to be silent, his feet barely disturbed the sand as he landed. He walked forward, his steps quick and equally silent before dropping to his knee in the sand. He slid his hand into the grains of sand, his hand moving until his entire forearm was covered in the stuff. He withdrew his hand, still in a fist and walked back to his horse, pulling himself into the saddle. Turning the steed towards the horizon, Zolm opened his hand and blew a breath, sending most of the sand out of his hand.

All but a handful which stuck to the right of his palm.

Zolm wiped his hand on his side. As though receiving some silent command the horse continued forward. The rest of them had no choice but to follow. Steeling himself against the pain, Dastan pressed his heels into the sides of his horse and urged him forward. As they moved Dastan looked back at the sands but there was nothing there to mark the spot as unique. Or to really show them that something else was happening inside of the sands. Twisting further in the saddle, Dastan tried to keep Alamut in his mind, wishing sorely that he had been better prepared to understand the location of the holy city in relation to the desert they found themselves in.

"This is insanity," Bis said.

"Bis we are in the middle of the desert following a Hassansin-which we have been doing for the better part of the day-and you pronouncing it 'insanity' is not going to change anything."

"But it is going to make it clear how insane I think this is," Bis said, "because this is madness."

"Madness?" Dastan repeated, "this is the desert."

Bis rolled his eyes at Dastan's easy response but he made no move to go ahead. Dastan imagined that he was just being prepared in case he toppled over-which Dastan had no intention of doing. Which would absolutely never happen. Even if it was pride alone that kept him on he horse he was going to stay on it. Otherwise he had a feeling that there were at least two, possibly four, people who would never let him live the humiliation down. Sensing Dastan's patience wearing thin, Bis lapsed into silence as they continued to ride across the desert.

Rocks began to dot the landscape, the sands giving way to a rougher landscape. Dastan could have sworn as he horses began to pick their way across the rocks, but managed to settle for imagining all the ways he could kill the Hassansin who rode silently in front of him. Or, failing that, the ways he could kill all the other Hassansin who currently served as the last threat in his uncle's plans. Finally putting an end to the remnants of his uncle's plan was a very satisfying thought indeed. Without warning the Hassansin pulled his horse to a stop and looked around at the rocks that were still low to the ground all around them.

"Why have we stopped?" Garsiv asked.

"It is unwise to approach the Den at night," Zolm said.

"And staying out here in the open is a wiser plan?"

"This far out? Yes," Zolm said, swinging himself off the saddle. He looked at Garsiv, "if we are caught I will be killed as well," Zolm said, answering the unspoken question.

Garsiv held the mans gaze with his own for a moment before swinging himself off of Aksh's saddle. Walking back to the saddlebag, Garsiv pulled out a roll of cloth used for bandages. Apparently the Prince was taking no chances on this mission. Returning to where Zolm stood, Garsiv looked at him. Dastan wondered briefly why his brother was wasting time on binding Zolm's hands with something as easily escapable as cloth. But Garsiv unwound the bandages, his eyes never leaving Zolm's face.

"Turn around and close your eyes," he ordered.

In front of their amazed eyes, Zolm turned around and closed his eyes as Garsiv had said. Reaching forward Garsiv wrapped the bandages around Zolm's eyes. He used the entire roll, positioning it so that Zolm's odd, fevered eyes were shut and the entirety of the scar on his face was lost to the strips of muslin. Belatedly Dastan realized that Garsiv had made it so that even if a Hassansin walked by Zolm would be unable to signal him with his eyes and the Hassansin would be unable to recognize Zolm's distinctive scar. Mindful of his arm, Dastan dismounted as well, Bis, Tamina and Seso following suite as they dismounted.

"There is no good time to attack this place," Seso said, his eyes scanning the landscape, "but I suppose there is a reason these men wear black."

"Then we spend the night here," Tamina said.

"Camping outside a Den of Hassansins loyal to your Uncle who seem to specialize in night attacks," Bis said looking around, "in this place," he continued taking in the wasteland, "Dastan even if I find it in myself to forgive you-," he clapped a hand on Dastan's good shoulder, "my back won't."

"Oh does that mean you're going back to Persia?" Dastan asked looking at his friend.

Bis looked back at him, seemingly stunned into unusual silence. Dastan had meant his words as a joke. The matter of whether Biswould stay in Persia or remain in Alamut had never really come up between them. Though Dastan had no doubt Bis would eventually ask for a different set of slightly less lavish rooms in the palace, he had always assumed Bis would stay in Alamut. And from the shocked look on Bis's face, he had made the same assumption. After all, Bis had always been by Dastan's side. Him going to another empire entirely seemed to be a strange thought.

Though the idea of living in Alamut, of waking every day next to Tamina, was one Dastan adored, the idea of leaving his brothers was not. Tus would soon have an empire to run and while Garsiv would be by his side, Dastan knew his fate was different. Alamut would be his priority now, it would be his home. Not the palace that he had grown up in. Soon Garsiv and Tus would leave for Persia and he would remain in Alamut. It was a strange thought, to think of how much would change when Garsiv and Tus and the majority of the other Persians left. But at the look of blatant disgust that filled Bis's face, Dastan knew at least one man would remain with him in Alamut.

"Go back to Persia? What am I going to do in Persia?" Bis demanded, "besides, someone's got to stay here and remind you just how stupid you are when you get into these kinds of situations."

"I think I have one too many people for that job-" Dastan began, hearing the tell tale sound of Tamina's footsteps, "hello Princess, how did you find the ride?"

Tamina's eyes narrowed at the sheen of sweat that stood on Dastan's tight features. Even though his face was fixed in a smile she could see the strain. The ride had been hard on him. She had tried not to look back at him, focusing instead on seeing if Zolm was planning to run or turn around and kill them. The temptation had been great but Tamina knew that if she looked back and saw him struggling she would turn the horses around and demand that they go back to Alamut. Now as she looked at him she wondered if letting her husband keep his pride was really better than ensuring he kept his life.

"Don't 'princess' me," she said, giving his charm no opportunity to work on her.

The very charm that Tamina had decided would be the end of her. It was that charm of his-among other talents-that had led them to this place. Tamina knew that they had no place being here and yet at the same time she was sure that anyone else they sent would be going to their deaths. She knew that but it did not mean she could not be angry at him for their current situation. Or that she could not be angry until his infuriating smile and wicked, talented mouth made her feel other things. Before she could yell at him properly, however, Garsiv appeared.

"According to your friend over there," Garsiv said as he and Seso joined them, his voice dripping with disdain, "we'll have a window of time, just after dawn.

"Dawn, of course," Bis said, sarcasm edging his voice, "why can we never attack at a proper hour?"

"We attack at dawn," Garsiv repeated, not acknowledging what Bis had said, "Tamina and I will take first watch. You and Bis will take second. Seso will guard Zolm," he looked at the pair of them, "try not to keep in mind that there are people out there who want us dead."

Dastan frowned as Garsiv walked back to where Aksh was. He walked after his brother.

"I know what you are about to ask and the answer is no," Garsiv said, "we need to be on our guard. I would have you with me but one of the two should have full use of their arms."

Dastan looked at him for a moment before nodding his head. He knew Garsiv had a point. He doubted that he would be much use at watch with Tamina by his side. Still he did not like the idea of sleeping while she sat there were Garsiv searching out threats on the darkened landscape. Tearing his eyes from his brother, he looked over at the Hassansin. Zolm sat on the ground, bandaged and seemingly making no attempts to remove himself from the situation. And yet the sight of him with bandages on his face did nothing to reassure Dastan of the dangerous situation they were in. A situation that they had all willingly thrown themselves in the middle of because of-well, because of him.

There was also the fact that he knew for Garsiv and Bis at least, they would cut their arms off for real if they thought it would get rid of the mess Nizam's treachery had made of the people they loved. But that was not something in the forefront of his mind, not when he saw the misshapen fabric that hinted to the bandages wrapped around Garsiv's upper arm from the dart he had not been successfully able to block. What if they found themselves in the position once more? Somehow he thought even if he did have to throw himself in front of Garsiv to make sure his brother stayed alive, Garsiv really wasn't going to forgive him a second time. As though reading his mind, Garsiv made a sound in the back of his throat and looked at Dastan.

"How's your arm?" Dastan asked before Garsiv could speak.

"It did not enjoy the ride," Garsiv said, "but Aksh is rather adept at carrying wounded Princes of Persia on impossibly foolish errands."

"Even Aksh could not have made this ride comfortable," Dastan said dismissively, though a smile twisted his lips, "unless you've got a flying carpet, a horse is a horse."

"You should be giving praises to God that this time you have an excuse as to why you look quite so pathetic on a horse," Garsiv said.

"Perhaps you should be concerned as to why Aksh looks so upset to have you riding him again," Dastan said.

"With all your complaining it really is a wonder I take you and Tus on these campaigns at all," Garsiv said.

"Well he is the future King, so I think he actually takes you on them."

Garsiv glared at him as Dastan flashed a smile at his brother, shaking his head before turning and walking back to where Bis and Tamina were standing. He might not have been taking watch with Tamina but he could at least talk to her before they took their watch. She was talking quietly to Bis but a simple touch on her arm and she nodded, moving towards the horses with him as the violet of the sky began to darken towards the navy of true night. Tamina looked at him calmly, though he could see she was less than thrilled at their current situation. He realized that he too would have preferred a few days off between wild adventures.

Looking down at her petite form clad in armor with barely a scratch on it, Dastan felt anger stir at him. Her armor did not look as though it had seen much use, despite the fact that it seemed perfectly cut to her body. He thought of his own well worn breastplate, the one that now protected his bruised ribs, and not for the first time he thought that she had no place coming into a Den of Hassansins. Not after what they had just been through. But from the look in her eyes he knew that if he said that to her now she was going to fight him. Either way, there was little that they could do now.

"Tell me, were you always planning on coming?" he asked.

"No," Tamina answered, "and if you had stayed in the palace then I would have stayed in Alamut."

"So you intend to follow me every time I leave the city?" he asked.

"If you leave it so soon after nearly dying then yes," she said, "I may not have much practice with sick men but even I know they are not supposed to be riding off and taking on Dens of Hassansins."

"No more than Guardians of the Dagger," he shot back.

Tamina inhaled sharply, anger surging through her with a swiftness that only her High Council and her husband seemed to be capable of inspiring. She should have known he was going to tell her she did not belong in a fight, in spite of all that they had been through. He was a far more experienced fighter, they both knew that. But she had proven she was at the very least competent. After all, she had been the one to stab the Hassansin sitting behind them. And she had manage to come out of their latest conflict unscathed. That did not make him the better of them, it made them even. Each almost dying, each coming out of it by magic or the Sands or Amar's much older sister's magic.

"I think I have more than proven my worth in a fight," Tamina said, her tone edged with venom. Dastan opened his mouth but she barreled on, "and if you are about to bring up my death then I will remind you that death was a feat you very nearly accomplished a few days ago."

Dastan stared at her, his own temper flaring at the outrage written on her face. She was angry, that much was clear. She truly thought that he had no reason to be equally angry or at the very least upset at the fact that once again she was sticking her neck out for the Dagger, for Alamut and maybe, just maybe, a little for him as well. After all that had happened, after all that she had done to get them to the place they stood, she still did not understand why he wished that she was back in Alamut in the safety of the palace. It was one thing to go cavorting off on a whirlwind adventure to save the entire world. It was another to go willingly into danger while the Dagger was back in Alamut, safety guarded by the guardians.

"And yet here we both are," he said.

"Furthermore," Tamina continued, turning to the white horse she had ridden, "out of the two of us I am the only one with full use of both arms," she opened one of the saddle bags, "and the one who thought to grab your sling for the ride back."

"I do not need it," he began as she pulled out a bag.

Tamina looked up at the distinctly child like note in her husband's voice. Men and their pride, it was something so foolish that half the time she wished it was a trait that she did not fully understand. Dastan looked as if he was considering not accepting her help despite the fact that he would need as much use of his arm as he could have tomorrow. Opening the cloth bag she pulled out the dark green earthenware jar, sealed with a ring of gold wax. There were other such jars in the bag, along with rolls of bandages and bundles of herbs. She turned to look at Dastan who watched her carefully, his eyes watching her movements as she held the jar and the bandages. Setting down the bandages and the bag, she reached into her boot and pulled out a small blade, breaking the seal of wax on the jar before returning to Dastan.

"Give me your arm," she said.

"What is that?" he questioned.

"Its something that will keep you from getting an infection that will require the healers to cut your arm off," Tamina said.

"Will it make my arm go numb?" he asked.

"No," she said, motioning for his arm.

Dastan held out the limb before moving it back.

"Because if it makes my arm go numb I won't be able to fight-"

"Do you always fight people trying to treat your injuries like this?" Tamina demanded raising an eyebrow at him.

Almost guiltily Dastan extended his arm. Tamina pushed back his sleeve and looked at his forearm in the fading light. The bandages that wound around it were stained and dirty and darkened with old blood. She undid the knot and unwound them, revealing the angry red skin underneath. Traveling was not something to be done when one was so injured, but Tamina refused to tell that to Dastan. Wiping her fingers on the inside of her tunic, Tamina dipped the appendages into the jar and began to spread the ointment across Dastan's wounds. There was no smell from the paste but he did grit his teeth as the stuff began to coat his wounds.

"What is that stuff?" he asked.

"It will help your arm," Tamina said, "the healers in Alamut make it to treat people who insist on getting into trouble when they are injured and express a desire to keep their limbs attached to the rest of their bodies."

Dastan looked at her hands as they moved across his forearm. The horse well stocked with medical supplies and, if he had to guess, food as well, the polished armor, the fact that she had weapons though he was sure he had not seen them in their room, even the fact that she had been able to beat him out of the stables all began to add up. As he looked at the steed he saw another saddlebag, just as full as the first. The horse was kept saddled and ready with the armor and weapons nearby in case Tamina needed to do what? To run? Probably to protect the Dagger and get it to the secret guardian temple.

"You are the most practical holy person I have ever seen," he said.

"Well one of us must be practical," she said without missing a beat.

"Says the woman who tied me to a bed to keep me from following her so she could protect a knife," Dastan replied.

"As I said," Tamina replied with a smile, "one of us must be practical."

Silently she bandaged his arm, her movements careful if not a bit slow. Dastan watched her fingers move, sometimes pausing to try and find the best way to wrap the fresh bandages around his skin. Despite the fact that he had reassured her of his ability to move in every way humanly possible, he could still see the worry on her face. Worry edged in anger. But Dastan knew the latter of the two was not directed at him, at least not entirely. Tamina was not the type of woman to stay in the safety of Alamut's walls and wait for her accident prone husband to get himself injured. No more than he was the type to ride off to war knowing that a woman was back at home waiting for him. And yet here they were, those roles staring them down. Finishing the knot on the bandages, Tamina wiped her hands on her pants and picked up the bag, returning it to the saddlebag.

She seemed, for lack of a better word, distracted. Dastan had seen the look on the men who rode off to war for the first time. The men who could not shake the distraction, the thoughts of home, those were the men who did not come back. Tamina had proven herself to be a decent fighter but if she went into the battle angry or upset he knew her chances of returning were slim. And if he confronted her dead on she was going to shut down and walk away from him. Or worse she was going to get even more upset and angry. Dastan tried to think back. Aside from what had happened with him there had to be something esle responsible for the worry in her eyes. He thought back to what had happened, what would elicit such worry. And then it occured to him. Frowning he looked at her.

"What happened with the High Council?" he asked.

Tamina looked away sharply and Dastan knew he had found the problem. He knew that the Council rule over matters directly concerning Alamut. The city, the people, taxes, that sort of thing. The Dagger and the guardians were all separate. But as Princess and head Guardian, Tamina was accountable to the both of them. He remembered just after waking up Sahar had told her that the guardians and Council were ready for her. And he knew that later Tamina had gone before the Council but he had not thought anything of it. In spite of his own dislike of her actions, he knew they had all be to protect the Dagger. He would have thought the council would recognize that, but looking at the anxiousness on her face he realized with a renewed surge of anger that there was a chance they had not.

"Tamina-" he began when she remained silent.

"Removing the Dagger is a crime," she said, "one that I am accountable for," she looked at him, "my punishment will be entirely ceremonial and more humiliation than actual suffering," he looked at her, his face anxious and Tamina continued, "but both the Council and your fellow guardians are aware of the altered time and even I cannot say what the reprocussions of that will be."

Dastan said nothing in reply to her words. Tamina looked at him carefully. She knew that when they returned the palace would be full of rumors and for once they would not be soley about her. She did not know how the other guardians would react to the news that their entire world had been destroyed and then put back together. That the very thing they had sworn to protect had been used by a Persian. And the Council, Gods, she knew it was only a matter of time before they summoned Dastan to have their own words with him. And given that he had done the impossible and breeched their precious Wall, she had a feeling their words would be anything but kind. And the guardians in the Temple were all dead, meaning that she would have to shift others around to take their place. There was so much to do, it made her head ache. She half wished they could go on another wild adventure just to avoid cleaning the mess of the first one up.

"Whispers," Dastan said, "rumors, endless questions, perhaps a threat or two," he shrugged and gave a disarming smile, "nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Tamina looked up at him, anxiousness on her face before understanding took over her features and she looked away, color blossoming on her cheeks. She was aware of his adoption into the royal family. Everyone was, even if the matter was rarely spoken about. Garsiv and Tus were adament that Dastan was their brother, though even when she had been introduced to him they had informed her the same blood did not run through his veins. He was actually rather touched that she had thought the rumors and whispers would upset him. That she had been worried on his behalf for something as simple and foolish as palace gossip. It had bothered him during his adoption into the royal family, when he already felt so incredibly out of place in the palace. But the need to escape the rumors and whispers was what had given him the courage to go to the market and find Bis once more so in a way he felt greatful to the gossipers.

"And besides," Dastan continued when she made no move to speak, "they will fade, they always do," he frowned before continuing, "your punishment-" he began.

"It will be nothing," Tamina assured him, her eyes meeting his, "some ceremonial nonsense," he looked at her, "I assure you it will be nothing more than some foolishness to make the old men in the High Council feel as though they have some kind of power over the guardians."

"You do realize if it is anything more I will have no choice but to come rescue you," Dastan said, Tamina smiled and shook her head, knowing he was being honest and would come rescue her even from a punishment she had rightfully warrented, "we should join the others," he continued, "Garsiv will complain loudly enough to give away our position if we keep him waiting too long."

"Will you miss them?" Tamina asked, stopping him with a hand on his elbow.

"Very much," Dastan replied, looking at her, "but I know we will see each other as often as we can. Garsiv would not want me to forget how much better a rider he is and I imagine Tus will show up with some diplomatic excuse."

"So Bis will be staying in Alamut then," Tamina said.

"Yes," Dastan said, looking at her, trying to judge if the notion upset her or not, "he seems to think that Persia would be too boring without me," he shrugged, "his way of saying he will miss me far too much."

"And we would not want that," Tamina replied easily, knowing full well that Dastan would miss his friend too, "besides, who else is going to tell me the real story of why half the camel traders in Persia use your name as an insult?"

Dastan looked at her silently for a moment, his mind turning over what she had said before understanding crashed into him. Tamina saw the understanding in his eyes and smiled, standing on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking over to where Garsiv was standing to begin watch. Dastan walked over to where Bis was sitting with Seso. Bis turned around to face Dastan but at the muderous look in his eyes, Bis quickly got to his feet.

"I cannot _believe_ you told Tamina about the camel incident."

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**YAY for fluff!**

**Next time its ASS KICKING! We've got some new nameless, faceless badguys who generally just want to kill them all. And Zolm's finally gonna get some ass kicking time too! Lets hope that he keeps up his end of the deal! **

**Once again I apologize for the delay but stuff came up.**

**SO i'm gonna try my hardest to make this a double update day!**

**I'll see you all in a few hours!**

**MBR it up and leave a review to get us there at warp speed!**

**So please review!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Ugh, sorry guys. Stuff came up. **

**WOOHOO to so many of you appreciating that "This is Sparda" is the only appropriate response to accusations of madness. *sigh* Dastan will learn. And how did I know so many of you would want to know about the Camel incident? I'll have to have a story for that one!**

**Oh and I do update a chapter a day-but thats MY time so if a day goes by w/out you having a chapter its because of the time difference.  
**

**Thanks for all the reviews!**

**Now back to the story!**

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People did not always appreciate the importance of stillness.

Especially not when it came to an attack.

The first thing a good knife fighter-or any fighter learned-was the moment before an attack was often the one who decided how successful an attack would be. Seso had long since learned to master the stillness that made a successful attack. He had learned to sit for hours, days even in a single spot on the plains, waiting for a target be it man or animal. Even as the others changed shifts, he remained silent and unmoving next to the Hassansin. Through the night Zolm remained silent but awake. Strangely he did not move for Sesos weapons. After the mid point, when Bis and Dastan began their watch, Seso finally spoke.

"How does one becoxme a Hassansin?" Seso asked.

"The same way one becomes a Prince," Zolm replied, giving no time for silence, "you catch the eye of the King. If you survive he has made the right choice.

Seso smiled faintly at the Hassansins words. Even though bandages still wound around Zolm's face, Seso knew the Hassansin was looking at him. That his eyes were still deadened, though they were still fevered and bright. Seso had recognized the look in the mans eyes the moment he had first attacked him. His eyes held none of the angry lust of battle or even the bright, passionate desire to protect that he saw in the eyes of most men who he fought on a battlefield with. He saw the calmness in his eyes, the kind of calmness that only came with fighting. Fighting without something to protect or to avenge. That Seso understood, though hedid not like to have thigns in common with the man who had almost orchestrated his death.

"Then there is something we have in common," the Ngbaka said, "if you survive the training in my tribe you are a man."

"And if you do not?" Zolm asked.

"There is no shortage of men in my tribe," Seso replied with a humorless smile.

The reciprocal smile that curved the Hassansins lips was equally humorless, but it was a smile none the less. Seso turned his head to look at the others, none of whom seemed to show any fear to the man sitting next to him. In an odd way, Seso imagined they trusted him. After all, it was not as though him killing them would do anything to help his situation. Seso looked at the Hassansin before looking back at the people surrounding them once more. Zolm was silent as he inspected the situation. Finally Seso spoke to the man again.

"Why have you agreed to help these people?" Seso asked him. Zolm turned his head towards him, "I did not try to kill them earlier," he continued, "but you did. Why did you change your mind?"

"I did not," he said, "my orders were to secure the Dagger and bring it to Nizam."

"You followed the orders of a dead man?" Seso asked with a frown, "you have a strange sense of loyalty."

Zolm said nothing but Seso got the distinct impression that he was not amused at the thought of his loyalty-however strange-being brought into question. It was odd to think that loyalty really mattered for a man like the one sitting next to him. But the Ngbaka had born witness to stranger things in his lifetime than that.

"And why have you followed them?" Zolm asked finally, turning his head towards the Ngbaka.

"I feel the hand of destiny with these people," Seso said, looking over at them, "and i have never met a man who knew so many secrets Amar keeps," he continued, his eyes moving to Dastan's back, "but that is another secret."

Once more Zolm was silent but Seso imagined that the trouble of secrets was something Zolm was well acquainted with. He let them lapse into silence as the night wore on. Bis and Dastan scanning the sky, looking for any threats to the camp that rested behind them while the vague shapes of Tamina and Garsiv's sleeping forms lay nearby. They made no fire, gave no indication that there were people sitting there. It was only as dawn began to lighten the sky that Zolm spoke.

"It is time," Zolm said, breaking the silence as he spoke to them all.

Looking back at him, Dastan and Bis traded a look with each other before turning away from their watch and heading over to where Garsiv and Tamina lay sleeping. Dastan walked back over to the camp, touching Tamina's shoulder and nudging his brother with the toe of his boot. They both woke quickly, getting to their feet in the faint predawn light. Only when they were awake did Zolm unwrap the bandages from his face, as though he needed to show them that he had kept them on all night. Throwing them aside, the Hassansin got to his feet and looked at the group of them.

Zolm crouched down, pressing his hand to the ground and moving the pebbles aside.

A perfectly smooth, flat stone rested on the ground, hidden underneath the smaller stones. Zolm inserted his fingers into a slot along the side of the stone and carefully worked it up, sliding his hands underneath it and moving it silently aside. Placing the stone on the ground, Zolm was careful not to disturb any of the smaller ones. The hole, just large enough for a man to fit through, opened onto darkness. Somewhere, impossibly far below them water rushed merrily by, the sound contradicting the seriousness of their situation. Standing up, Zolm stepped forward into the center of the hole.

A rod suspended just below the surface held his weight, making it seem as if he was floating in mid air. The rod had been rubbed with black pigment, making it indistinguishable from the darkness. It seemed as if the hole only went to the middle of Zolm's calfs. The Hassansin bent down and drew his hand up, showing them the thick black rope that now looped around his palm. He looked at them, his eyes oddly bright in the dim light of the morning sun.

"There is a river, under there," he said, "we go on the bank on this side," he pointed to his side, "do not move for the other. Once we get off the rope, follow only in my footsteps."

Without waiting for a reply Zolm dropped the rope and placed his hands on the bar, moving his legs and dropping down. They watched his hands as they transitioned seamlessly from the bar to the rope before he disappeared. Dastan, who had the most experience with people being suspended on a rope, counted in his head before nodding to Seso. The Ngbaka moved forward and stepped onto the rod, lowering himself onto the rope. Garsiv went next. Dastan looked at Bis and Tamina.

"You go next," he said looking at Tamina, "count to five and then get on the rope. You go after her," he said to Bis who nodded his understanding.

"Why are you smiling?" Tamina asked him.

"Oh I'm just wondering if I'll ever be able to spend time with you without dropping into secret corridors where I can't step exactly in someone elses footsteps."

In spite of herself, Tamina smiled at that before Dastan seamlessly dropped onto the rope, foregoing to the step on the rod. Bis muttered something that sounded distinctly like 'show off' before Tamina finished counting to five and stepped out onto the rod. Easing her way forward, she knelt down and grasped the rope. Taking a deep breath and steeling her nerves, she let herself fall from the rod, her legs wrapping around the rope that was taut with the weight of the other men. Tamina lowered herself down, her eyes searching through the darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the light she saw the top of Dastan's head.

They made their way down the rope, Tamina forcing herself to only look at what was right beneath her feet. Dastan paused when he reached the end of the rope. Maneuvering himself so that only his hand was holding onto the rope, the Prince swung his legs back before propelling himself forward. Releasing the rope he landed soundlessly on the other side of the water. Carefully Tamina eased herself down the rope until she reached the end. Gripping the rope, Tamina let her lower half dangle free from the rope. Trying to imitate Dastan's movements, she swung her leg twice before releasing and dropping onto the banks of the river.

She had far less grace than Dastan but she managed to land none the less. Zolm glanced behind at them before leading them down the slope of land into the darkness. The ground was lined with small rocks, rocks that were easy to move. Tamina was careful of her steps, making sure that she was not disturbing the rocks as she moved. She saw the others were just as careful as they made their way across the small rocks that blanketed the ground as the last of the light was eclipsed by the darkness. Only the soft, purposeful sound of the Hassansins occasional footfall kept them on the right path.

Soon though light began to flicker in the darkness, the putrid yellow light of the lamps eating away at the darkness. Zolm was careful to keep them in the shadows, but his eyes moved over each patch of light, as though searching for something in glow of the lamps. Most of the time the lamps illuminated only the water-smoothed stone of the tunnels walls. They saw other paths leading off into the gloom, but Zolm did not take them to those, keeping them along the same path. Abruptly the Hassansin stopped, very nearly causing a collision. When they crowded behind him as much as the narrow ridge would allow, they saw why.

It was a prison.

Through the bars they could see women sitting there, all who still bore remnants of beauty, underneath lays of grime and abuse. Most were too weak to move. From the putrid smell of decaying flesh, some were dead, some far gone enough to be decomposing. Only one woman seemed strong enough to move. Her neck was exposed to them, revealing a long ropy scar new enough to still ooze pus. They had cut out her voice box. Somehow, impossibly, the woman managed to pull herself up on the bars, her eyes locked with Zolms.

"Help," the woman mouthed through lips so dry they had cracked and bled.

Zolm stared at her, the bored look on his face replaced by something far closer to outrage. He was not horrified or upset, he was angry. Angry at the sight of a woman bound and chained in the middle of a Den. If she could have, they all knew she would have been screaming for someone to come and save her. Zolm moved forward towards the woman, his hand sliding into the fold of his robe. Faster than they could see there was a whisper of steel and the woman crumpled soundlessly to the ground, already dead by the time her body hit the sands.

The Hassansin looked back at them before pressing on in the gloom. They passed another prison full of women, but Zolm did not stop and the women did not call out, all seemingly too weak to make a sound. The Hassansin kept his eyes ahead but he made no move to get the release his grip on the knife he held. They could not see his face and they doubted he would have any emotion on his features but the grip of his hand on the hilt of the knife was so tight his knuckles were white.

The tunnel slowly began to widen, the lamps becoming further and further apart as the narrow space gave way. They found themselves standing in a much larger space. Once again Zolm stopped them, this time while they were still in the shadows. He looked back at them, his glance saying more than his words ever could. Hands went for weapons as Zolm flipped the knife he held upwards, catching the tip of the dagger in his fingertips. Bending down the Hassansin picked up a stone. Drawing back his wrist, he glanced at them once more as though seeing if they were ready. Throwing out his hand, he pitched the stone into the center of the circle. Dastan counted three beats before the Hassansin threw the dagger and dove forward.

The dagger buried itself in the head of the man not yet out of the shadows. Zolm tackled him, pulling the knife out of his chest and vanishing into the shadows. There was sound behind them. Seso turned around, throwing his own blades as they ran from their hiding place, quickly engaging the rest of the Hassansins waiting to kill them.

Ducking under the pass of the blade, Dastan brought his sword up and blocked, engaging the Hassansin carrying two short blades. The Hassansin was fast but Dastan was quick. Quick and smart. He did not try to block every pass the Hassansin made with each of his blades, he kept his one in the middle, blockign the attacks when they came close to hitting him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of silver but before he could duck a second blade met it with a sharp grate of steel on steel.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask for one of these fights to happen at a proper hour, with proper light?" Bis demanded over his shoulder, his foot connecting with the Hassansins stomach.

"Keep asking Bis," Dastan advised, blocking the Hassansin's strike, "I'm sure if you live a pious life the Gods will answer your prayers."

"So thats a no, I take it?" Bis said as Dastan lunged forward and plunged his blade into the Hassansin's chest.

The man toppled to the ground. Dastan dropped to his knee as Bis ducked, under the Hassansin's blade. He spun around, his sword moving in one seamless movement to arc up and around. For a moment the Hassansin stood there, seemingly stunned. Then red began to seep from his throat and his head fell away into the darkness. Seconds later his body fell into the darkness as well, blood spilling from his severed neck and head. Dastan stood up, turning around only for them both to drop to the ground as a whip whistled through the air where their heads had been.

With a ragged shout the man feel to the ground, a sword buried in his back. Moments later Garsiv hurried over and knelt down, yanking the blade from the man's back and looking at them.

"I would make a comment about you and whips," Garsiv said, "but that is nothing I want to think about."

Dastan rolled his eyes at his brother before pushing himself to his feet and moving to where the other three were fighting. Two Hassansins dropped with Tamina's arrows buried in their back, their weapons clattering to the ground as they fell to the ground. Tamina turned to face them, seamlessly nocking another arrow and drawing the bow taut and letting the arrow fly. It sailed towards them, shooting easily between their shoulders and slamming into the Hassansin behind them. Moving away from he wall she jogged over to where they were standing.

"Zolm and Seso went this way," she said, "come on."

They ran for a few steps before the ground sloped sharply downwards. Spread out below them was what could only be described as a training ground. The floor of the earth was packed tightly down and covered with sand. Suspended from the ceiling on chains were glass lamps, offering the space the most illumination out of anywhere they had been in the Den. And on the earthen floor, in a blaze of cloaks and steel, Seso and Zolm fought the remaining Hassansins.

In the shadows they could see the bodies of others most with the bright silver Seso's blades embedded in their bodies. And the Ngbaka was anything but done. The man he fought carried two smaller knives, but that seemed to be no problem for Seso who easily blocked and returned every blow sent his way. The knife fighters were skilled,their large bodies eclipsing the smaller blades. But Seso's size and skill won out and before long the man fell backwards. A flick of the Ngbaka's wrist and a blade was buried in his chest. Immediately Seso's eyes began to scan the darkness for any other threats that may have lain in shadows, waiting for their chance.

All the while the Hassansins continued to fight.

Each was armed with a pair of swords, the blades meeting so quickly the sound of the quick strikes seemed to blend into one, continuos sound of metal meeting metal. The long fabric of the one Hassansins clothing only served to make him more foreboding, the swish and swirl of fabric making it difficult to see where the blades would be. But Zolm was not fooled. The Hassansin met every strike, blocking and returning as his eyes moved past the fabric and distraction. Their movements were seamless as well, consisting of precise and measured steps that sent them almost dancing across the dirt floor of the training space.

"Should we-" Bis began, looking at Tamina and her bow.

"Can you get a clean shot?" Garsiv asked, "could any of you?"

They looked down but there was no chance. Not without risking hitting Zolm or Seso. They could do nothing but watch the blur of steel and fabric as the two men dueled across the patches of light and darkness, their swords increasing in speed. The man Zolm dueled was clearly the leader of this Den. Not because of his weapon, but the mans skill made it clear he was the one who had led the men there. He was quicker and a good deal more skilled than any of the men they had fought. But Zolm showed no signs of being over powered, despite the man's size.

As they fought the others realized that Seso, the only one who could have had a clean shot at the man, was not taking it. He continued to scan for other Hassansins, despite knowing that there were none there. And they realized that Seso was giving Zolm the final fight with the Hassansin, letting him kill the last of them. But for the life of them they could not see which of the men would be victorious from the encounter. They seemed so evenly matched that when the final strike happened, when the winning blow was dealt, it occured so quickly it was almost impossible to see.

Only the Hassansin freezing revealed that Zolm had struck.

Zolm straightened as the Hassansin fell backwards, landing in the circle of light. There was no shock or surprise on his features, they were as blank and bored in death as Zolm's were in life. But what shocked them the most was that in addition to scars and lines on the man's face, there were wrinkles. The man laying before them was old. Older than any Hassansin Dastan could remember seeing. As blood began to seep into the darkened sands, their eyes moved from the old Hassansin laying there dead to the form of the last living member of the order.

Zolm stared at the man who had fallen, his chest steady, his face as expressionless as the dead man at his feet. With steady steps he walked over to the body of the man who lay there. Kneeling down, Zolm parted the robes of the man with the tip of the sword he held. Even in the dim light of the cave, the vest of pure gold on the mans chest sparkled almost mockingly. Zolm touched his fingertips to the man's lips, bringing his bloodied fingers back and touching them to his lip. He remained kneeling for a moment, his expression as unreadable as always. Then, before their amazed eyes, the Hassansin's hand closed into a fist and he got slowly to his feet, every muscle tight with fury. Zolm dropped the sword to the ground, his eyes filled with contempt. .

"Drink, women, gold," Garsiv looked at them, "Hassansins are not supposed to accept payment for their services. Not like this."

Dastan looked at him before looking back at the Hassansin's bloodied body. Zolm's anger was explainable then. Even he could not stomach the idea of people who had subscribed to the theories he had been brought up on acting in such a manner. Given the caves they were in, Dastan had a very strong feeling that Zolm had been to this place before as a child. That everything around them reminded him of the oaths and values that he had fought for with everything he had. In some strange way Dastan felt he understood the last of the Hassansins better in than anyone. And that the man understood him in a way that no-one else ever could.

"Your brother was right," Zolm said, his voice low but carrying easily up to the rest of them.

Bis knew what he was saying. Tus had accused him of being the last of his kind and he knew that if the Hassansins were not acting like, well Hassansins then Zolm did not consider them such. It was actually kind of sad, Bis thought. But at least he did not have to kill men who were acting like Hassansins. If Zolm felt any kinship with the dead men surrounding them, it was gone the moment he realized that they were drinking, having sex and taking gold and jewels as payment from Nizam. Clearly the other Den had not been indulging in such behavior.

"I must go back there," Tamina said, breaking the heavy silence, "some may not be beyond saving-"

She trailed off when Zolm moved, Seso following him. The two disappeared into the darkness, though one of them kept his footfalls purposefully audible. They turned and moved towards the end of the tunnel they had come down as Seso and Zolm reappeared at the end. Seso looked at them, seemingly as confused as the rest of them. But they had no choice but to follow as Zolm led them back down the tunnel they had come from, his every step ringing with anger. He did not pause as he reached up and grabbed one of the oil lamps, continuing to move with speed now that the silence and stealth did not matter. He led them back into the tunnel, past the women and to the lake where the rope still dangled.

Zolm grabbed the rope and swung to the so-called forbidden other side of the river, landing soundlessly on the other side before Tamina could argue about the women who still needed rescuing. Ignoring the rope, Dastan jumped the lake and landed soundlessly next to the furious Hassansin. Zolm glared but made no move to tell him to leave. Dastan looked back at the others, motioning for them to stay put as he turned back to the man standing beside him. As usual, no-one listened to him and with landings of various silence, the others crossed the river.

Tamina searched through the darkness. The caves, the old man, all of it was beginning to click together. Nizam had been many things, but he had not been a fool. They had ridden for a day into the desert wasteland and she knew they were somewhere in the Persian empire. Walking forward, Tamina ignored the men standing on either side of her and looked at Zolm. The Hassansin held the lamp high above his head, his eyes moving across the darkness. Tamina could see no bars nor rocks, nothing to obscure the way in. Or the way out.

"Why do they leave the way out so open?" she asked, working on a hunch, "why do the children not run?"

"We do not run," Zolm replied.

She said nothing, though she supposed it made sense the idea that a way out was so open and clear made the Hassansins words even cruler. Silently Tamina pulled an arrow from the quiver and turned to Zolm. As though she was dealing with an easily spooked horse, Tamina kept her movements slow and steady as she moved the arrow into the lamp, letting oil and flame coat the tip. Nocking the arrow, Tamina drew her bow back and let the arrow fly into the darkness. The bright light shot through the blackness, casting the rocks and darkness of the caves into faint light.

There was a whistle of steel in the air and the arrow abruptly went out.

Tamina heard the men go for their weapons but she glared at them angrily, freezing them in their movements. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the darkness of the cave, listening for the sound of footsteps, though she doubted there would be any she could hear. Much to her surprise there was the skid of a rock before silence took over. But it was enough for her to know that they were not alone.

"Its alright," Tamina said, "you can come out now."

She counted thirty breathless seconds before something came to the mouth of the cave. Five before it retreated into the darkness and finally another ten before the filthy bare feet emerged. She heard Garsiv and Bis inhale sharply but she forced her eyes to remain on the shapes that pulled away from the darkness, blinking in the feeble light of the torch as though it was the brightest light they had ever seen. Or the brightest light that they had seen in five years.

Standing before them were five boys, each wearing pants, a robe and carrying a dagger.

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**Everyone say "Aww" for Zolm going on his first rescue mission!  
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**Bet the guys are gonna love that one!**

**Okay so next time we're gonna have a LOT more D/T (sorry for the lack) and YES I'll tell you about the Camel Incident!**

**Yay for updates! Now its time for you to do your part and click that button! Review it up! We're rounding the bend of the end of the story! Lets keep up the wonderful relationship we've been having this whole time! Awesome Train of MBR FTW!**

**So please review!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Woo hoo for all who adore Zolm's Badass Hassansin Den! They could kick those guys ass. And YAYY for Bromance! You guys are such kick ass readers!**

**Today was my last day at the library! Ugh things are about to get really busy for me! But don't worry we've got a bit longer with this fic and we'll keep the awesomeness going to the end!**

**Now back to the story!**

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It was mid day before they made it out of the cave.

Only three women seemed even remotely strong enough to make it out of the caves, much less to make it back to Alamut. Three women, five boys. It was hard to say which group seemed more skittish around them. The women could barely walk but the boys refused to sit still even for a moment. It was unsettling to see five boys who bore an odd resemblence to Zolm with their bright, fevered eyes and quick, precise movements. The women at least seemed to take comfort in each other but there was no comrodary among the boys, all of whom seemed to be judging whether or not they shoud kill each other. Even the presence of Zolm who was clearly a Hassansin did nothing to comfort them. They looked at him with the same odd intent, as though wondering if this too was a part of their test.

"Far as I can tell they've got no names," Bis said, "no ages-though the oldest can't be more than eleven-who knows how long they've been down there-"

"Four years," Tamina answered, her soft voice edged in steel, "they've been in there for four years. Thats why they have cloths and the knives."

They all stared at her but for the life of her Tamina could not meet their eyes. She had been filled with disgust when Zolm told her of the Hassansins training. Even what she had been told could not have prepared her for the reality of it. Seeing the deadened expression that was so unsettling on a grown man's face on the features of children was something she wondered if anyone could truly be prepared to see. At least the women seemed to understand that they had been saved. The children, Tamina was not so sure they understood anything anymore. It was a horrible thing to see. Taking a deep breath Tamina looked at the group of them.

"What are we going to do with them?" she asked, looking at Dastan and Garsiv.

They had set out to eradicate the Hassansins, not to rescue anyone. But the eight people in front of them needed rescuing, even though five of them very well might be the future of a threat. All she knew was that the boys behind her had survived for four years in the dark caves, escape just out of their reach. She did not know how far gone they were or how strong the corruption was. Had they been warped by the Hassansins they found-could they even be considered further warped after what they had been through? She did not know what Dastan and Garsiv would want to do with the boys.

But she knew she had to take their wishes into consideration.

The boys were Persian and given that it was Nizam who supplied the women, Tamina was fairly certain the women were as well. They were Persian citizens on Persian land, captors of a Persian threat. She had no power over them, any sway her words held were solely because of her marriage to Dastan. Garsiv was the eldest Prince there and the one who held their fates in his hands. Garsiv and Dastan were silent, looking at each other. Garsiv looked at his brother for another moment before looking at Tamina and nodding his head. Tamina understood his look and nodded her consent, following him a little away from the others.

Garsiv seemed unusually agitated, worry bright in his usually angry eyes. It was unsettling to see such an emotion in the second Prince's eyes. Garsiv looked back at Dastan and Bis before turning towards the desert, seemingly searching for the right words. He seemed anxious. Anxious and deeply unsettled. Realization crashed into Tamina.

"You know about the Hassansin's training," Tamina said, too surprised to worry about the note of accusation in her voice.

"Yes," Garsiv said finally, "in far more detail than your friend has told you," he continued, anger sparking in his eyes, "those boys over there do not see each other as human beings. They see each other as targets, obstacles. The moment we leave them alone they will kill each other."

"What do you mean?" Tamina demanded. Garsiv was silent, "tell me," Tamina said.

"If this Den followed the ways of the Hassansin, four years ago there were thirty boys in those caves," Garsiv said, "thirty," he repeated, "by the time they were let out there would be three."

Tamina stared at him, horror flooding her. They set it up, weeding out the best of the best for further training. She had heard rumors of Hassansins, of how they could infiltrate any circle, move unseen in any palace. Even after they had been disbanded legend of their skill still was whispered in the palace, as though to speak of it would bring the black robed men down on them. If they killed even as children, then it was no wonder they were so skilled. They were skilled because they had to be. Because there was no other choice. Desperately Tamina tore her eyes away from the Prince to look back at the boys, as though needing to see with their own eyes that they were still there. But Garsiv grasped her arm, his grip gentle but the message clear as he turned her gaze back to him.

"Dastan does not know," he said, holding her gaze before looking away and swearing. Finally he looked at her once more, "there are things that he does not know," he continued, "things there was no need for him to know. THough he does not share my blood, he is my brother," he said, his voice firm as though he too needed to remember such a thing, "but he will never be King. There are things in Persia that he does not know. Things my father thought were better left unsaid."

Outrage on behalf of her husband surged through Tamina. She was not naive enough to think that the other members of the Persian Royal Family would not have secrets from each other. And she had a feeling that the King deciding not to tell Dastan the darker of the family secrets had a lot to do with an old man wishing to shelter his son. But as she stood there in the desert with the second Prince, all she was aware of was how angry it made her. Dastan had suffered so much to be adopted by the King and the idea that the people in front of her were foolish enough to think that keeping secrets was somehow protecting him suddenly made her so angry it was difficult to see.

"Be that as it may," Tamina said, her voice tight, "they are children and they do not deserve to die for a life they should never have been forced into."

"Whatever you think them," Garsiv said, "however you see them. They are not children."

"Yes," Tamina said shortly, "they are. And if you will not have them they will be welcome somewhere else!"

Garsiv looked at her, anger now replacing all the worry she had seen on his face. But even she knew the balance of power had shifted. She could offer them amnesty, if nothing else. Something that was hers to offer within the walls of her city. They were still in Persian territory but if she got those boys safety back to Alamut there was little the men could do. From the look on Garsiv's face, the idea was not a pleasing one. He wanted the last of the Hassansins killed and she had a feeling that included Zolm as well. She forced her eyes to stay locked with his.

"Hassansins were almost the downfall of your city," Garsiv said, his voice low and angry, "and yet you welcome them so easily?"

"Alamut is a place of forgiveness," Tamina said through gritted teeth, "something you should know well."

Garsiv's mouth opened but no words came from his parted lips. She had managed not to bring up the Persian invasion. But at the thought of him so easily denying the forgiveness she had shown to his people made anger surge through her. Forgiveness was not his to deny, it was hers to offer. Forcing herself not to speak another word, Tamina turned around and walked back to where the Hassansin and the boys stood. They all turned to look at her with the same unnerving gaze, the bright eyes unsettling when there were so many of them.

"We ride for Alamut," she said, "the women on the horses and whatever room is left for children."

"Aren't we walking then?" Bis asked, looking at Dastan.

Dastan looked between his livid wife and his equally murderous looking older brother. They had been alone for all of five minutes and they suddenly wanted to kill each other. Dastan wished he did not understand the uncanny ability both seemed to have to infuriate a person in record time. Almost as much as he wished he had kept them separate. The two of them could start a war if left in the same room for a longer stretch of time. He looked down at Bis who was also very well acquainted with the infamously short tempers. Bis looked up at him before letting out a breath, shaking his head.

"Who first?"

"Try to calm her down," Dastan said, nodding towards Tamina.

"Sure sure," Bis said, "I'll just tell her another story," he walked over to towards the Princess, "this is why I can't go back to Persia!" he called over to Dastan, "you need me too much!"

"Whatever makes you feel better!" Dastan called back, walking over to Garsiv.

Garsiv was muttering to himself, looking out at the sands with one hand pressed to the side of his head and the other gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles were white. That, at least, there was some comfort in. If Garsiv was really angry enough to kill, he knew that they would already be dead. Gripping the weapon just meant that he was really, really angry. Not murderous, but angry. Looking back he saw Bis and Tamina talking-or Bis was talking and Tamina was looking as though she was seriously considering taking out her bow and shooting someone. Quickly Dastan refocused his attention on the problem at hand.

"Your hands on your sword-" he began.

"You cannot possibly want to stay in Alamut," Garsiv said turning around to face Dastan, "you are a fighter, Dastan, not some-some-" he looked around, as though the right word lay on the ground, "not some pacifist fool willing to forgive without a second thought!"

Dastan looked at Garsiv, surprised at the naked emotion on his brothers face. There was more to the fight than just what was going on with the children behind them, that was just the beginning of what was wrong. The tip of the mountain. Standing there Dastan sorely wished that Tus was there to get them to talk about what they were feeling in that peculiar way of his. He and Garsiv were of the sword, they fought the way that men were supposed to fight. Unfortunately Dastan knew neither of them were going to be doing much more fighting that day. Not if the agony seeping past Tamina's ointments was any indication.

"Thats a bit harsh, don't you think?" Dastan asked, "if they weren't forgiving we would be in a lot more trouble."

"Or maybe we should have just conquered the place and been done with it!"

Dastan looked at his brother, forcing himself not to reply to his brothers angry words. Somehow he thought that standing there, atop a Den of dead Hassansins, yelling at Garsiv was not the brightest idea in the world. Especially not when there were eight confused, angry, broken people behind them and a Hassansin who seemed angry enough to want to kill someone just to feel better. Garsiv was silent, glaring as Dastan took a breath and forced himself to speak.

"You don't mean that."

"Maybe I do!" Garsiv challenged.

"You sound like a child."

"You sound like an idiot!"

"Would you stop yelling?" Dastan shouted.

Both of them fell silent, glaring at each other as the earlier maturity Dastan felt gave way to the rise only his brother seemed to get out of him. The two of them looked at each other before looking away, neither entirely comfortable with the situation at hand. Dastan had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going and it was one he sorely wished that he did not have to have. There had been so much chaos, so much to do, the subject of their different living situation, of how they would be separate, had never come up. Tus would be saddened by it but he would be rational. Garsiv, who was so ruled by his emotions would be angry.

"So that is your plan?" Garsiv questioned, his voice tight, "you are just going to stay behind the gilded walls of Alamut? Grow old and fat like Tus is going to?"

"Of course I am not going to grow old and fat in the 'gilded walls'-and neither is Tus for that matter-and what about you? Do you think you are going to be riding off to war until you drop dead?"

From the look on Garsiv's face it was clear that had been his brothers plan all along. The idea of Garsiv laying dead on a battlefield was an unsettling one-made even worse knowing how close they had come to that very situation. Dastan closed his eyes. Garsiv had an obligation, both to Tus and to Persia itself. Just as he had one to Alamut and the guardians of the Dagger. He knew he would see his brothers but their days of wreaking havoc on the palace and being sent off to war together were coming to an end-though he knew the days of wreaking havoc should have probably ended a while ago. Not to mention the past month he had been so distraught he had been terrible company.

Dastan knew his older brothers did not like change, especially not Garsiv. He had put up a fuss when Dastan had first come to live with them when Tus had first begun to take on his duties as the heir, even when they had begun to get married. Now there was another change happening and Garsiv was once more not happy with it. And if he looked deep down inside Dastan knew he did not want things to change drastically either, certainly not as drastically as they were about to. Dastan looked up at his brother. Garsiv tore his eyes from the desert to look back at Dastan.

"You aren't going to die on a battlefield," Dastan said finally.

"You are going to grow old and fat in Alamut," Garsiv said glaring half heartedly at him.

Dastan only barely managed to bite back the smile that tugged at his lips. He was going to miss Garsiv when he was in Alamut and his brothers were off in the rest of Persia. Though he knew there would be more than enough to keep him occupied in Persia, he would still miss them very much. Even with Tus's ability to make him tell the truth and Garsiv's ability to make him want to kill something. They were his brothers, in a way that no blood bond could have forced upon them. They had chosen him just as much as his father had and in a strange way Dastan realized that he had chosen them as well.

"We are all going to grow old and fat," Dastan said, "its going to take the entire Persian army to get you two to Alamut."

"Why do Tus and I have to come to Alamut?" Garsiv demanded, "Alamut's just a holy city, you should be coming back to the capital."

"You're coming to Alamut," Dastan said, "at least part of the time."

"You're coming to the capital more," Garsiv argued.

Giving in to the smile that tugged at him, Dastan turned and looked at the boys standing with Zolm. They were young, no older than he had been when he had been chosen by the King for his bravery. Who was to say that the boys standing there had not been chosen as well? Probably for the same reasons he had been chosen. Because they were brave and strong and had the capacity to be good. Warped as they were, the boys did not deserve the fate that had been thrust upon them. He looked back at Garsiv who made a sound of disgust, though it was laced with the affection he reserved for his brother.

"Its a good thing Alamut is a holy city with the protection of the Persian army if you've gone so soft."

"An army that I help lead," Dastan said. Garsiv looked at him, "you didn't think you were getting rid of me that easily did you?" he asked, "think of it this way. Now you just have to make extra sure I come back or my wife will be less than pleased."

"And God knows we wouldn't want that," Garsiv said, glaring at Tamina who was more than happy to return the gesture, making Bis look almost comically desperate as he tried to get her attention back to him, "now I see why you have only one wife," the Prince continued, "you look at another woman and she kill the poor girl."

"What are you talking about?" Dastan asked, "if she kills anyone it would be me," he clapped Garsiv on the shoulder, "speaking of which," he sighed, trailing off as he walked away from his brother towards his wife.

By the time he got to Tamina, Bis looked ready to give Zolm an excuse to kill him just so that he would not have to stand with Tamina any longer. The Princess and Priestess of Alamut took one look at him before turning on her heel and walking away. Dastan looked at Bis who raised his hand as if to say he was on his own. Knowing that for once he was actually supposed to follow her, Dastan hurried after Tamina. When they were away from the others and entirely without warning, Tamina turned around, very nearly colliding with his chest and sending them both sprawling.

"I am not letting your brother kill those children," she said furiously, "no matter how he claims to see them. It is not their fault they are the way they are."

"Garsiv is not going to be killing any children," Dastan said.

"And if the High Council puts up a fuss, well," Tamina waved her hand as if to say that did not matter but her words of ceremonial punishment seemed to ring in Dastan's ears.

"What will the High Council do if you show up with them?"

Tamina looked at him. She was in trouble for breaking the laws in service of the Dagger. But the Dagger was safe and somehow she imagined any words she had to explain her actions would fall on deaf ears. They were going to have plenty to say about Zolm being there and if she showed up with a group of small Hassansins-to-be they were going find someone to accuse of treason. And there were some things that even the mantle of Guardian could not save one from. Dastan looked at her carefully and she knew that he had gathered that her punishment this time would not be just ceremonial. Not for bringing a direct threat to Alamut back into its walls.

"Then we can't bring them back," Dastan said as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Surprise filled Tamina's face at the offhanded way he said that they could not bring them back. As if it was the most practical thing in the world. How could one man make even the most impossible things seem easy. They were in the middle of the desert, with nothing around and nowhere to go except back to Alamut. Tamina narrowed her eyes as she looked at her husband, half sure that the desert sun had finally made him mad. Dastan smiled at her, delighting in telling her his brilliant, half formed plan.

"So we take them somewhere else," he finished.

"Take them somewhere else?" Tamina repeated, "are you mad? Where else are you going to take them? Its not as if the people want this living, breathing reminder of your Uncle's treachery staring them in the face. And the High Council will not give them a home in Alamut. I thought we could bring them there and then figure something else out. But we need a place where people like that would be accepted. Appreciated even, without them doing harm to others."

Dastan looked at Tamina, her brow knitting together as she thought of what to do with the children. Dastan looked back to see that Garsiv and Bis had moved over to where Seso stood near the three women. The Ngbaka nodded at something they said, looking back over at them as though checking to see they were alright before his eyes moved over to Zolm and the boys. The Ngbaka had shown no fear towards the Hassansin earlier, he did not seem to show it. Even when he had been guarding Zolm he had spoken to him as though he had not tried to orchestrate his death.

"We send them to the Valley of the Slaves," Tamina said. Dastan turned to look at her, "Sheik Amar will probably see this as a business opportunity," she continued, "they will be safe in there."

He looked at her, realizing that she did have a point. The Valley had a reputation of such terror, the people who made it into the Valley itself we rather crazy and dangerous. Excitement curled through Tamina. If they could get Sheik Amar to agree to take the boys, they would be safe and in a place that would actually be suited to them. They were so eerily quiet and still, the bustle of the Valley could show them what life was like. People would not look at them like they were murderers or freaks, not in a place where there was Ostrich racing every tuesday and thursday.

"Its worth a shot," Dastan said finally.

"We need to get to Alamut," Tamina said, "the Sheik is still there. I can have Sahar bring him out to speak to us. As long as we remain outside the walls the boys will be safe and I cannot be arrested."

"Arrested?" Dastan questioned.

"Most likely," Tamina said, "and quite publicly. As i said, they want to make an example. Can we focus on the task at hand? We are still a days ride from Alamut and another from the Valley."

"And we should probably leave this place," Dastan said looking around at the rocks.

Tamina nodded as they moved back towards the others. They all fell silent as the pair of them approached, the eyes from the unnerving gazes of the young boys to the broken ones of the women to the calm ones of the Ngbaka all turning towards her. Tamina looked at the group of them, her eyes calm.

"We ride for Alamut."

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**Next time we've got Sheik Amar coming back. Lets see what he's got to say about coming into a group of Hassansins. Also we get to see what Zolm's gonna say about all of this, including the fact he actually took part in a rescue. **

**I'll see you all tomorrow!  
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**So please review! **


	29. Chapter 29

**Anonymous replies: Lillelouis, Zolm weeping would be quite a sight! But I'm glad this works for you too. DxT Crazy, that would be a good idea but I don't think it'll work out! XienRue, yeah King S might now be coming along. Sorry! As for the ending you'll have to wait and see what'll be. **

**Hmm, I think that it for anonymous replies. What else, what else? Oh Great song suggestions as always. I'm super pumped because at the very end I'm gonna be sharing my playlist with you guys and explaining about each song. I love doing the playlist thing!**

**Thanks as always for the reviews! Your feedback is very very much appreciated! But it does seem like this fandom is slowing down a bit! But I guess the glamour of a new movie is wearing off and as of right now we don't have ANY news on a sequel! (though in some egotistical part of my mind i'll be comparing whatever they come up with to this fic. *sigh*)**

**But enough about me. **

**Now back to the story!**

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It was a day before they made it back to Alamut.

No-one complained which made it incredibly difficult. The boys would have keeled over dead on the sands before they voiced a word of discomfort. They did not sleep, nor did they eat, or allow themselves on the horses. And the little water that they managed to convince them to drink was smelled many times before it was consumed. The women were more willing to take the food and drink they were offered but it was with such confusion it was nearly heartbreaking to see. The three of them crowded onto a single horse, refusing to be separated. The group pressed onwards through the night. Tamina had never been so grateful to see the walls of Alamut in her entire life. Though it was just past dawn, the guard was already out in full. By the time they made it to the walls a single man had ridden out.

"Your Highness," he bowed to them all, but his eyes went to Tamina.

"Send for Sahar and our guests Sheik Amar and Prince Tus," Tamina ordered, "we will meet them out here."

"Yes, Your Highness," the man said, turning his horse and taking off towards the palace.

Leading them into the shade of the walls. Sahar was fast, Tus most likely had a sixth sense when it came to the trouble of his brothers and if Tamina had to guess she would say that Amar was not the type to waste prime business hours on sleep. It was not long before Sahar came out of the gates, bringing with her the other men they had requested. Sheik Amar came riding out of the gates of Alamut with a handful of other men in tow, all dressed in a similar fashion. All except for Tus and Sahar. The pair of Tus and Amar rode out as though it was the most natural thing for a tax evading Ostrich racer and a King to be friends. Both of them pulled their horses up, looking at the group of them. Tus raised an eyebrow but managed to keep his face smooth. Amar on the other hand took one look at the group of them, threw his head back and began to laugh so hard his entire body shook.

"You know I thought I had a nose for trouble but you, you've got your whole damn face in it!" Aamar said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the pommel of his saddle, fixing Dastan, "weren't you supposed to be getting rid of the Hassansins? How'd you manage to get six of them?" he looked at the boys, "alright, three and a half."

"A word, you two?" Tus said, looking at his brothers.

Dastan and Garsiv followed Tus a little away from the others. Tus pulled his horse to a stop and turned to look at him, the face he displayed when he was the future King of Persia slipping to reveal the incredibly aggravated, slightly incredulous face of a very frustrated older brother. Garsiv and Dastan looked at each other, both about to say that it was the fault of the other person. Tus folded his arms on the pommel of the saddle and looked at them, much in the same way that Sheik Amar had except there was a lot less humor in his face.

"Have you two lost your minds?" Tus questioned, "did that poison o something to your brains? Or perhaps insanity is a side effect of that Dagger your wife protects."

"That would mean you are insane as well," Dastan pointed out.

"I very well must be," Tus said, "to have let you two ride off while still so frail."

"We are not frail!" the brothers objected at the same time.

"It was my understanding that you were going to eradicate the last of our uncle's treachery. That you were going to finish off the Hassansins and instead you ride back here with three half dead women and five boys in their fourth year of training."

Dastan opened his mouth to ask how his brother knew such a thing. Tamina had known there were four years of training left for the boys but that was because the Hassansin had told her. He looked at Garsiv but there was no surprise in his brothers face. He knew as well. Dastan closed his mouth, looking between them before focusing on the horse's neck in front of him. He knew there were things he did not understand, things he was not supposed to know. Things that his father had thought he was not supposed to know. And his brothers had not seen fit to go against his will.

Moments like this had gotten steadily further apart as the years went on and Dastan was not sorry to see them go. There were times when it was hard to remember his life before being adopted and then there were times when it was almost painfully obvious that he was not born of the King. He hated those moments, not because there were secrets he did not know but because these moments were painful reminders that in some way he would never truly belong in the palace of Persia. And it was not as though the blood in his veins was something he could fight. There would always be secrets that Tus knew, secrets that Garsiv knew as well, secrets that he would not be privy to. He could not fight what he was, only how he reacted to the news.

"Even so," Dastan said, fighting not to feel odd that their eyes were squarely on him, "they are children. Tamina thinks we should take them to the Valley."

"The Valley of the Slaves?" Garsiv questioned, "are you mad?"

"You know thats the second time someone has suggest that today," Dastan said, "i very well think I might be."

"The Valley is no place for children," Tus said.

"Then can you think of another place for them?" Dastan challenged, "They won't be welcome anywhere in Persia and Alamut will let them in but given what has happened with the Hassansins," he shook his head, "I don't think that is such a good idea."

Tus was silent, looking at the horse he rode as though the white creature held the answer to the question in front of them. Dastan looked away from them, his eyes moving over to the group assembled there before his eyes found Tamina's form. Still astride the white horse, she was speaking to Sahar who was nodding at what her mistress said. Tamina's ebony hair was slowly coming out of its tight braid, the black strands curled with the remnants of the style. The fight and the desert clung to her skin, the perfection that clung to Sahar nowhere on the Princess. And yet for all the beauty he saw when she put effort into her appearance, a part of him would always thing she was the most beautiful in moments like this one.

As though sensing his eyes on her, Tamina turned her head to look at him. Their eyes met and the knot that Dastan had not even realized settled in his chest began to loosen. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the city of Alamut, the place that would now become his home. And somewhere in the walls of the city lay the Dagger that he too was now sworn to protect. The weight of all that had happened, of what they had done, was staggering but in that moment it seemed as if it was all worth it. As if every bruise, every agony, every moment that had led them to this place had finally come to fruition. They were so close. All they had to do was go a little farther. Almost without realizing it, Dastan pressed his heels into the sides of his horse and moved the creature towards Sheik Amar. Tamina urged her own horse forward.

"I have a proposition for you," Dastan said, coming over to where the Sheik was sitting a Tamina maneuvered her horse to his other side.

"You know I don't do favors for people," Amar said.

"Its not a favor," Dastan said, "its a business proposition," he continued. Amar looked at Tamina who opened her mouth before closing it and shaking her head, also having no idea where he was going with this, "those boys over there need a home."

"What did I tell you about not being a charity operation?" Amar questioned, "and besides, men come to my city to get away from their nagging wives and screaming children."

"Do you see that man over there?" Dastan said nodding towards Zolm, "he's the last of the Hassansins," Amar looked at him, "not the man who almost killed us, a different one."

"A non murderous Hassansin?" Amar asked, "he doesn't sound like he would be much use."

"Oh he is plenty murderous," Tamina said quickly, "see Hassansins have leaders, their most skilled fighters, he just killed the only other Hassansin leader in the world."

"You don't say," Amar said, "but if he's such a good killer, whats to say he won't come after me?"

"What about Seso?" Dastan asked.

"What about him? I saved his life. He was indebted to me-and besides, he followed me back for the first ten miles. I couldn't get rid of the man," Amar shook his head, "and between you and me, I know the quiet ones are the ones you have to look out for. That man looks like he hasn't said two words since breakfast."

"He is quiet and he is deadly," Tamina agree, moving forward, "but that man was trained on the King's money-on your money. And those boys were trained on the corruption of Nizam. So if you take them in," she glanced around as though sharing a secret, "you will be taking your money _back_ from the King."

Amar's eyes narrowed but Dastan could see he was thinking it over. He had paid taxes as a younger man and the Prince had a strong feeling that it was an extremely sore spot for the man who prided himself on evasion of such things. Behind the Sheik's back Dastan looked at Tamina who met his eyes before the both of them turned back to Sheik Amar. They could see him turning the idea over in his head, actually considering it.

"What would i have to pay him?" Amar asked finally.

"Zolm doesn't really like to discuss the payment aspect of his work," Tamina said.

"Well I'm not just taking him," Amar said.

"Of course," Tamina said seamlessly.

"The Temple in Alamut needs rebuilding," Dastan said, "and I am sure the Sheik's money would help."

"So much," Tamina said, "so not only would you have an unparalleled bodyguard, your money would help the people who serve the Gods."

Sheik Amar pressed his lips together, reaching up and stroking his beard as he considered the proposition. Tamina gripped the reins of her horse, hoping that he was going to say yes. If not they were going to have to figure something else out. But this was a perfect plan, one that would solve their problems and not face them with another war. Over Sheik Amar's shoulder she saw Dastan looking at the Sheik before glancing up at her. Finally Sheik Amar leaned back and looked up at the pair of them.

"Well I suppose I could come out of this with worse than an alliance with Alamut," he said, "and I've got a sneaking suspicion I haven't seen the last of you two anyway. And I suppose that the past few days have been nothing but insanity. Why should this end any different? Besides, if that man tries to kill me-" he stopped and threw back his head with a laugh, "what am I saying? He wouldn't be the first man that wants me dead!"

Still laughing Sheik Amar kicked his horse forward and headed for where the rest of them were gathered. Tamina and Dastan followed him, curious to see how this would play out. Amar pulled his horse alongside Zolm. The Hassainsin turned his head with the same quickness his horse displayed, fixing Amar with his odd eyes. Amar did not seem to care.

"How'd you like to come work for me?" Amar said with a grin.

"Are you insane?" Garsiv demanded.

"No, thats just a rumor," Amar said dismissively, "I am, however, an opportunist and you," he said swinging back to the Hassansin, "are a golden one. How about it? Get to live in Persia, don't have to pay taxes, and given the crowd I run in your skills will not go to waste," he looked over at Seso, "he's a trained killer, he likes it fine."

For the second time that day they saw emotion in Zolm's face. For once the Hassansin looked truly shocked. Amar, who knew him only by reputation, did not seem the least bit confused or off put by the Hassansin. If anything he seemed intrigued by the possibility of having two strong, ruthless killers squarely working for him. His eyes left Zolm only to look at the children, all of whom seemed surprised to see him looking at them with genuine intrigue rather than fear. Amar rubbed his beard, looking at them, his mind going to places that Dastan imagined he should be grateful that he did not know. Zolm looked at them, clearly not enjoying everyone looking at him as they were. His eyes left the Sheik's to settle on Tamina and slowly everyone elses gaze followed suite.

Belatedly Tamina realized that the Hassansin was looking at her and if she did not know better she would say he was looking for her opinion. Or consent. She had promised him a purpose in exchange for his help. A purpose she realize that she was not prepared to explain because she had no idea what it would be. She looked around, her eyes searching for something. Something that would tell her what to say to the Hassansin. To make the situation better, to fulfill her end of the deal. Zolm had upheld his, she had to find a way to uphold hers. As she looked around, Tamina's eyes landed once more on the children.

One would have to be blind not to see the hand of destiny on the children.

Everything they had known was lost as well, just like the children of the guardians who had been placed outside the secret temple. None had spoken a word since being taken. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw movement. Dastan seemed to have thought along the same lines. Tamina watched as he swung himself out of the saddle, dropping onto the sands of the desert. Moving past the horses and the men, the Prince made his way over to where the boys were standing. They all fixed him with their unnerving eyes, but only ones hand moved towards the knife he held. Dastan walked over to him. The boy kept his eyes locked with his, his chin tilting to look into him eyes though he imagined the brightness of the sun was torture for him. Stopping in front of him, Dastan looked at the boy until the hand that had moved towards his knife dropped back to the side.

"What is your name?" Dastan asked.

The boy was not in control of his emotions as much as Zolm was. His eyes widened in surprise at her direct question before dropping down to the sands. The other boys seemed just as shocked as the other. When the boy looked up at her, there was uncertainty in his eyes. Dastan forced his eyes to remain on the boys, waiting for his answer. Finally the boy looked up at him and spoke.

"Asad," he said.

"Asad," Dastan repeated, "do you know where your family is?" he asked him.

Asad shook his head, but from the look on his face he did not much care to know where they were. Either he was an orphan or-or his family had given him up to the Hassansins. The latter of the two was sickening. The idea that people would willingly give up their children to the men, men whose ways had been outlawed. Had some of the gold they had seen in the cave been blood money for the boys standing there? Dastan forced the thought aside. He had to make it clear that these were just children, no matter what else they saw in them.

"Then we've got something in common," he said, "sometimes they call me Lion as well."

"Why?" Asad asked.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure either," Dastan said with a smile, "you look far more lion-like than I."

Asad's eyes widened, surprise on his face before his features tried to revert back to the bored mask that Zolm donned so easily. But that feat, it seemed, came later in the training. Asad's eyes went to the ground as the boy tried and failed to seem emotionless once more. Finally his eyes moved up to Dastan, the look on his face almost heartbreaking in its innocence. Suddenly the boy in front of him was just that, a boy. Dastan forced his eyes to stay on the boys, but he had a feeling that the others were unsettled as well by what was going on.

"Do you see that man over there?" Dastan said, "his name is Sheik Amar and he runs an Ostrich racing ring."

"You can't race Ostriches," one boy protested suddenly.

Dastan looked over at him. The boy was one of the smaller ones, with dark hair that fell to his shoulders and was heavy with dust. His movements held the same sharp grace that Zolm's did, but to a lesser degree. Clearly the boy had survived more on speed than actual intent to kill. Yet the knife in his hand spoke of some talent for that as well. Dastan looked at him carefully and the boy looked right back at him, defiance suddenly in his eyes.

"What's your name?" Dastan asked.

At the direct question, the boys courage seemed to falter. He stammered something, his eyes going to the sand at his toes before he looked up at Dastan who waited patiently for him to speak.

"Its Sa'di," Asad said.

"Don't tell him my name!" Sa'di said, "its my name."

Dastan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the pair of them. The squabbling was all too familiar between the young boys, especially the outrage that was bright on Sa'di's face. The dark hair, the anger, the fact that he was a bit skinny and a bit awkward only reminded Dastan even more of Garsiv. Dastan looked at the young, angry little boy.

"Care to see it?" he offered.

Sa'di looked at him suspiciously, silent for a moment as though judging what to say next. Finally he looked at Dastan and nodded.

"Yes. But not because I want to, but because I don't believe you."

Maybe, Dastan thought, there was some Tus in the little boy as well. Behind him the others watched as in capable hands the group of would be murderers dissolved into a pack of, well, boys. They all looked on with disbelief. Perhaps it was Dastan's natural talent, or maybe it was some thing that street rats shared-no matter how far they had come from the streets themselves. But the boys seemed enamored with the Prince. Tamina forced her eyes from the spectacle to look at Amar. He seemed even more taken with the idea now that the children were acting like children. Which left one thing: Zolm. Tamina looked over at the Hassansin, catching his eye. With a nudge she moved her horse away from the others and he followed seamlessly.

Tamina rode until they were far enough away that the others could not hear them. Pulling her horse to a stop, she looked ahead to the walls of Alamut. The High Tower rose above them, it spire shining in the sun. Tamina felt Zolm come alongside her, pulling his own horse to a stop just slightly behind her own.

"It seems you have kept up your end of our deal," Tamina said, "even in the face of having to finish your own kind."

"They were not my kind," Zolm said, outrage still in his voice at the corruption of the Hassansin Den they had eliminated.

"Even so, why not kill us?" Tamina asked, turning to look at the Hassansin, "after all you did to get the Dagger, why not kill and take it?"

"After all I had done," Zolm said, 'why not kill me?"

"I needed you," Tamina said. Zolm looked at her, "and you needed me," Tamina realized aloud, "did you know? About the children?"

"No," he said.

"Then why help us?" she asked.

"We see things in the trance," Zolm said, "what will be, what has been," he looked at her, "I was instructed to take the Dagger and to use it to bring Nizam's plans about. When the Prince knocked me unconscious, I entered trance again," he looked at the saddle and then at her, "there was no honor in the future I saw."

"And now do you see honor?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

Tamina looked at him quietly for a moment, considering his words. He had seen the extent of Nizams plans and he saw nothing for his way of life there. And when he had awoken he had seen nothing for how he wanted to live his life in this time. It was strange how much sense it seemed to make to her. He had no other option but to try and create a new future for himself. If she could understand nothing else about him, if she could respect nothing else about him, she could understand and respect that. Respect the way he went about it and she could understand how he would want to create another future for himself.

"Your attack on the guardian temple cost us much," she said, "only a handful of children survived what your Den did," she looked at him, "it will take us many years to rebuild what was destroyed."

Zolm a silent but Tamina knew apologies were not something she would get from the man. Tamina looked at him carefully. The first show of emotion from the man was directed at the Hassansins who had not followed the ways he had been brought up on. He had claimed to be young when the King had ordered the Hassansins disbanded, probably not much older than the boys who stood behind them speaking to Dastan. And yet for all his cruelty, Zolm had proven himself to be a capable of honor. An loyalty. Tamina turned her head to the walls of Alamut and to the spire that stretched above them. Things with the Dagger were never simple, rarely clear and always troublesome.

"You have upheld your part of our agreement," Tamina said, "now I will uphold mine. You asked me for a purpose. Here it is: take those boys to the Valley of the Slaves. Teach them. When they are ready, you will tell me and they will be given a choice. If they wish they will be free to go and live their lives as they see fit. But if they wish it, they may be granted passage to the guardian temple where they will ensure the safety of one of the Daggers most sacred resting places."

Zolm continued to look at her.

"As for you," she said, "when the time is upon us you will be given the same choice."

"You ask me to teach the boys the ways of the Hassansin in a den of liars and thieves," Zolm said finally.

"I ask you to teach those boys the culture that is so important to you in a place that will show them there is another side of life worth living," she said, "and perhaps all of you will learn to fight for what you love, rather than what you are ordered to."

"You ask me the impossible."

"No," Tamina said, "only the difficult."

Zolm looked at her for a moment, his features becoming unreadable once more. Finally he gave a curt nod of consent, the most she thought she would get from him. Tamina turned her horse back to the others. In the short time they had been gone the silent, frightening children had become loud, bright eyed creatures who seemed to have a million questions for the Sheik. But a single look from Zolm had them falling silent, their heads bowed with respect for their training master. Dastan made no move to get back on his horse, seemingly more than content to stand beside the creature.

"Then its settled," Amar said, "this sorry lot comes with me to the Valley. My sister is going to love getting her hands on you lot," he said looking at the boys, "I hope you've got strong stomaches."

For the first time the boys looked uneasy. Amar shook his head and looked at the men.

"Well get a kid. Lets not make this take longer than it should," he ordered.

"You're leaving now?" Tamina asked.

"I think I need to before you start sending my body guards out on your own missions," Amar said, "oh don't look so sad. We've got a business deal going now, you'll not be rid of me that easily."

"Good," Tamina said with a warm smile.

"And you," he said turning to Tus, "your not half bad for a future Persian King," he looked at Garsiv and then at Dastan, "you're still my favorite though. Remember that."

"I'll keep it close," Dastan promised.

Amar looked at the boys who had uneasily found seats on the horses of the men who would be riding with them

"Well thats enough of that," Amar said, "lets get out of here before you find another hair brained mission to send my bodyguards on."

Dastan and Tamina watched them begin to ride, knowing that Amar would teach them what Zolm could not. He would teach them a lot, about a side of life she imagined Hassansin training had been ignoring. Seso pulled up alongside them, reigning his horse to a stop as he looked at the group of them. Irrationally Tamina suddenly felt like crying. The Ngbaka looked at them silently for a moment before his features broke into a wide smile.

"I look forward to seeing you all when we are not running for our lives," Seso said.

"There's a time when we won't be running for our lives?" Dastan replied, "that sounds kind of boring."

"I am sure you have interesting stories to tell, my friend," Seso said, nodding to them all before kicking his horse to life.

They watched him join the others, riding for the Valley.

"You don't think-" Tamina began when he was out of earshot.

"No," Dastan said shaking his head.

They watched the party ride off until it was difficult to see them against the bright blue sky. Until it was Garsiv, Tus, Bis and Sahar standing beside Dastan and Tamina. Tamina looked down at Dastan who had made no move to get back onto his horse, seemingly having decided he had enough of the creature. Dastan turned to Bis and handed the reins of the horse to him before walking back to Tamina.

"I don't know about you but I am not getting on a horse for a good long while," he said, "care to walk with me?"

With a nod, Tamina swung her legs over the side of the horse and dropped down, letting Bis take the reins of the steed as others headed back for the palace at a much quicker pace by virtue of their horses. Tamina turned her head to look back at the figures silhouetted against the sky, growing fainter with each passing moment. The feeling of Dastan's larger, calloused hand finding hers brought her back to the moment. She looked back up at him.

"You were right," Dastan said, "these heroics are exhausting. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

Tamina laughed at his announcement and Dastan felt himself grin in response. He had no doubt they would be seeing Sheik Amar and Seso again soon. And to his surprise he realized that he would not mind terribly when they saw Zolm and the children again. But all of that seemed far off. For the moment he was more than happy to walk back towards Alamut with Tamina's smaller hand entwined with his own.

"On that we agree," Tamina said, "but first I'm afraid I have the High Council to deal with."

Dastan looked at her cautiously. Tamina smiled and shook her head at the confusion on his face before looking over at him.

"I told you it will be fine," she assured him.

"Remind me again why Alamut needs them," Dastan said.

"Because they govern the city," Tamina said, "and because they have been there for a very long time."

"You know I am a rather firm believer in change," Dastan said.

"We are not getting rid of the High Council," Tamina said, "you and I are subject to the law as much as every other citizen in Alamut," she continued, "so we will not dissolve the High Council and I will accept what they give me."

Dastan's fingers tightened on hers and Tamina knew that even if he would respect her decision, he did not like it. That was alright. Tamina knew there would be decision he made-like the one he had to go on the mission to destroy the Hassansins-that she would not like. But she would not turn her back on him, just as he would not turn from her. Through ever fight, every run, every movement away from him she had known that he would come for her. And she had learned that she too would come for him. Hand in hand they walked back towards the walls of Alamut, letting the shadows of the great wall shield them from the sun that climbed forever higher in the sky. The guards rolled the gates open for them, allowing the pair passage into the holy city.

Hand in hand, they walked into the welcoming walls of the holy city, glad to be home at last.

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**Next time we find out about Tamina's punishment, the boys get to talking and we get some D/T fluff. **

**So please review!  
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	30. Chapter 30

**I think I'm going to have cavities by the time this fic is over! Seriously its so fluffy I'm gonna die! (sorry, totally want to see that movie based on that one scene alone). Seriously its so funny because I've got a rep. in other fandoms for writing darker fics. But this had like disintegrated into a mountain of fluff! **

**Thanks for the reviews, as always. You guys are making this quite a ride! **

**Now back to the chapter!**

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It was surreal to see the rooms his brothers had been given so empty.

As Dastan looked at the packed trunks and bags that littered his brothers quarters, the truth struck him with more force than any blow. They were really leaving. Servants were already beginning to move the packed cases outside to the waiting procession. Irrationally Dastan wanted to take his blades out and stop them or tell them that Tus and Garsiv had changed their minds and were staying in Alamut with him. But his hands remained by his sides as the servants continued to move his brothers belongings out of the palace. As he stood watching them move things about, he felt almost out of his body.

Alamutian guards had escorted them back to the palace, claiming it was for their safety but choosing to take the most public routes. Tamina had glared him into silence every time he opened his mouth. When they got to the palace a handful of guardians had steered Tamina away before a few more steered him to a bath. Now clean and changed, he still felt oddly unsettled. He knew they would do nothing bad to her, but he still did not like the idea of the Council sitting in judgement on her. Tamina had told him it was nothing she could not handle, but he knew that if they publicly humiliated her he was going to rescue her whether she wished it or not.

Forcing the thoughts of his wife from his head, Dastan focused on the problem at hand. Glancing around for his brothers, he found no sign of them that was not being packed away. Quickly he ventured further into the rooms, finally locating his brothers with their heads bent over some map, fingers moving across the inky lines. They were bathed and changed as well, into clothing far more befitting Princes.

"Planning the next campaign already?" Dastan asked, drawing their eyes to him, "I think I do need to spend a little more time in Alamut first."

"Garsiv was just showing me where the training Den was," Tus said.

"Considering Garsiv can barely find his way around the Capital, I imagine he showed you wrong," Dastan said coming to stand by his brothers. He placed his finger on the map, "there," he said, "thats where the Den was."

Tus nodded, looking at the place on the map instead of the marker where Garsiv had incorrectly placed it. When he moved the familiar sound of Tus's worry beads reached Dastan's ears. He looked at his brothers hand, the gold beads seeming to twinkle in the Alamutian sun. He remembered Tus beginning to carry them around to his endless diplomatic meetings, just as he remembered picking them up after Tus had fallen to Nizam's blade. It was strange, he realized, the simple things that he was sure would remind him of the two men who would leave soon for what had once been the place he called home. Tus looked up at him before looking over at Garsiv.

"Uh, right, I need to see to-something" Garsiv said quickly, exiting the room.

Dastan bit back a smile, knowing he was in for a talk with his older brother and secretly as delighted at the prospect as he had been when he was a much younger man. Tus stood up, moving away from the map and turning to face Dastan. The evidence of his worry was still etched on his brothers face. Dastan knew there would be more sleeplessness for his brother, more nights filled with worry and fewer and fewer of them would be about his errant, adopted, younger brother.

"I spoke to your friend the Sheik in your absence," Tus said, "he seems quite fascinated with you, though he cannot seem to decide whether you are stupid, brave or both."

"You spoke to Sheik Amar?" Dasta asked, surprised that the tax evading man had actually managed to speak to the future king and not start a war.

"For quite a while," Tus replied, "his sister even forced some strange conception on me to add luster to my hair," Dastan smiled at that, "and it seems that my future coronation will involve Ostrich racing at a very reasonable price."

"Well what's a coronation without Ostrich racing?" Dastan replied seamlessly.

"I imagine it will be quite a spectacle," Tus said with a shake of his head, "one day," he looked at Dastan, "I suppose as the future King, and your elder brother, I should offer you words of wisdom on your new role by Tamina's side," he sighed, "but between you and your brother-and the Sheik's fermented goat milk-I am afraid my words of wisdom are all used up," he reached into the folds of his robe, "so I can only offer you this."

Tus withdrew his hand and held out a strand of gold beads, identical to the ones that he held.

Dastan looked at his brother and then at the worry beads. Tus smiled at his confusion and took Dastan's hand in his own. His brothers hand was smooth, almost completely uncalloused even. Paler than his own, it was the hand of a ruler, one whose battles were fought with something more than swords and spears. Even after all the years that Dastan knew had grown, Tus's hand was still larger than his. Gently but firmly Tus opened Dastan's hand and placed the beads in his palm.

"To remind you that not all things can be solved with a sword," he said, closing his brothers fingers around the beads, "no matter how much you wish to use it."

Dastan looked up at Tus who smiled warmly at him, his eyes softening a way Dastan knew only he and Garsiv could elicit. To his great shame, Dastan felt as though he was a child once more when his throat tightened. He had spent so long with his brothers, he barely could think of what would happen when they were back in Persia. When the length of their father's empire would separate them. It was little more than a few days ride, but suddenly the distance seemed impossibly great. There would be no more Tus to separate he and Garsiv when their yelling got to be too much-not that there would be any Garsiv to yell at-or to make him see the sensible way to do things when things became complicated.

Almost before he realized what he was doing, Dastan wrapped his arms around his brother. He felt Tus smile, his own arms coming up to wrap around Dastan's form like he had when the young man had been very young. The smell of silk and oil invaded Dastan's nose, scents he would always associate with his brother. Scents he would miss when Tus and Garsiv were back in Persia. Dastan tightened his arms around Tus, as though the simple act of holding him could keep him there.

"I know you will be fine," Tus said, his voice suspiciously rough , "but I shall miss you, little brother."

"And I you," Dastan replied through his too tight throat.

"But we shall see each other as often as we can," Tus said, holding Dastan at an arms length, "and you will do well in this place."

"I'll still miss the palace," Dastan said.

"Yes," Tus agreed, "but now it is time for you to have one of your own," he continued, lowering his hands from his brother's shoulders, "and for Garsiv and I to return to Persia."

Dastan nodded, his fingers tightening around the worry beads he now held. By the time the brothers walked out into the main room again, their belongings had been moved completely out of the way. The room was even sadder now that it was empty. Dastan looked around at the bare walls and the missing belongings before focusing back on his brothers. Garsiv pushed himself off of his position against the wall, the look on his face saying he found the affection the brothers showed to be disgusting. Tus practically rolled his eyes at his younger brother's expression while Dastan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from nodding. If Garsiv started acting like he was truly going to miss him, Dastan thought he truly would start to cry. And he knew he would _never_ hear the end of that one.

"If you two are finished?" Garsiv said, "we should at least spend _some_ time in Persia before Dastan finds a way to try and end the world again."

Pressing a hand to his chest as though his words wounded him, Dastan joined his brothers as they moved through the hallways alone. The servants had gone on ahead and whatever guards were there knew better than to interrupt the brothers. By the time they got to the courtyard their possessions had been loaded and their horses were ready and saddled. People had come out to see the pair of them off, intrigued by the display of wealth. Tus nodded to the pair of them before walking over to his white horse and mounting.

Garsiv walked over to the bay standing beside Tus's mount and swung himself up. Dastan stared at him. The bay he rode was a beautiful creature but it was a far cry from Garsiv's prized black stallion. The horse made a sound but quieted underneath his brother's steady hand, showing that he was not entirely used to being ridden by the Prince. Garsiv looked over at Dastan, smiling at the confusion he saw on his brothers face. As though reading his younger brothers mind, Garsiv smiled and leaned forward.

"Its unfair for that wife of yours to suffer with such a poor horseman as her husband," Garsiv said, "with a proper mount and a far more patient teacher, you may yet learn to be a proper rider," he shrugged, "and if not, at least you will look halfway decent on Aksh."

"You're giving me Aksh?" Dastan asked, scarcely able to believe that Garsiv would part with his prize war horse for anything.

"I could spin you pearls of wisdom on the bond between rider and horse, but they will be lost on you," Garsiv said, "so I will simply say to you what I told Aksh. You are going to get into more trouble and I fully expect Aksh to keep you alive until I am able to get here and berate you myself."

Dastan stared up at his brother, still feeling almost out of his body. This show of affection was almost too much, especially for Garsiv who was rather infamous for his dislike of showing how much he cared for anyone, but especially his brother. Well except for when he shouted himself blue in the face or attacked people who threatened Dastan. But to just give him his prized war horse, for any reason, was incredible. Even the snide remarks seemed half hearted as Garsiv straightened up on the horse, shifting his weight as though he found such public displays of affection unsettling and embarrassing. Dastan looked up at his brother.

"If I didn't know better Garsiv, I'd say you're going to miss me," Dastan said.

"Miss you? Don't be ridiculous," Garsiv said, "Tus may be stupid enough to believe that we are going to be parted for long but I am not."

"Thats why you're his advisor," Dastan answered seamlessly, "but you do realize without me there you'll be the youngest brother again, right?"

"I don't know what you think is about to happen here," Garsiv said, "but you are always going to be the youngest brother."

The crowds suddenly cheered louder. All three of them turned to see Tamina standing at the entrance of the palace, dressed in the full regalia of the Princess of Alamut with the soft white hood pulled over her head. Behind her he could see Sahar and just behind the priestess was Bis, also looking a good deal cleaner than he had in days. Gracing the people with a smile, Tamina walked forward to stand beside her husband, the jewelry she wore making almost musical noise. Tus turned his horse and came closer to her. Tamina looked at Sahar who hurried forward, holding the silk she held in between her hands out. Tamina turned to the silk, carefully opening it to reveal two ornate glass pendants suspended on chains. Laying on their sides, Dastan's eyes picked out the few grains of Sand inside them both.

"You have done my husband and I a great service," Tamina said, turning to the first of the chains and picking it up, "so that you may always have Alamut close to your heart," she explained, holding out the chain. Tus bowed his head forward, letting her slip the chain over his neck before she turned to Garsiv and repeated the process, "you are always welcome here."

The crowd roared their agreement as Tus and Garsiv straightened up, the vials of Sand on their chests. Tamina looked at them both in turn, all three of them knowing what the Sand in the vials could do. Tamina stepped back to where Dastan stood, standing close enough for the gauzy silk of her robe to brush against his shoulder. The brothers looked at them but it seemed that to see him standing there with Tamina and Bis was better than any drawn out farewell.

"We'll see you soon," Tus said.

"Very soon," Dastan said, looking between them.

"Try not to cry too hard when we are gone," Garsiv said.

"Same to you," Dastan replied.

Garsiv grinned and shook his head before looking at Tus who nodded to the guards. In a grand procession they moved from the palace towards the gates of Alamut. Once, when he was a little boy, Dastan remembered seeing the King and his sons return to the capital. He had watched with awe as they rode through the streets, wondering how three people could be so grand. Now as he looked at the two men who rode, both looking resplendent in the sun, he did not see the grandeur or the glamour and he felt no awe. Just a bittersweet ache in his chest as he watched his brothers ride from the palace to return to the only place he had ever called home.

Only the smaller hand holding his own kept him from running after them.

Tamina stood beside him in the courtyard until his brothers were gone. Until the crowds that had gathered began to disperse. She did not say a word, seemingly content to stand beside him with her fingers entwined with his. Around his other wrist, Dastan could feel the worry beads his brother had pressed into his hand, their slight weight almost as comforting as the feeling of Tamina's hand in his own. It was a strange thing, to think that this would be his home now, but it was not one he found completely disagreeable. When they were alone in the courtyard, Dastan fully turned to look at his wife, his eyes searching her for any sign of injury.

"Has the Council-"

"Yes," Tamina said shortly.

"And?"

Tamina looked up at him. It had been a mercifully brief affair in which the old men had struggled to find fault with her running off to take care of the current threat and finally deciding the only thing they could charge her with was leaving while they were debating her ceremonial punishment. Tamina had forced her protests back, knowing that Dastan's brothers would be leaving soon and being determined to go down to the courtyard when they did. The Council had passed judgement-that she was guilty-and exacted their punishment for what she had done. From the anxious look in Dastan's face she knew he was concerned. Even after he had just watched his brothers ride off, he was still worried about her. Feeling oddly shy, Tamina walked back into the palace with as much dignity as she could and led him through to the courtyard with the fountain.

Dastan followed silently but she knew he was even more anxious with each passing step. Stopping by the fountain, Tamina released his hand, dropping her own back to her sides. Dastan's eyes searched her but she knew he would not see any sign of what they had done to her. Not outright. She had considered herself lucky with what they had done to her, but now that she stood in front of him she wondered if she should not have argued her case more. Not that it would have made such a difference. After all, the High Council was rather set in its ways and its judgements. And if this was what she had to endure for what she had done, then Tamina would endure it. It had been worth everything it had cost her. Tamina raised her head and looked up at him. Slowly she reached to the edge of her hood and pushed it back, laying the fabric against her shoulders and letting her eyes go to the ground.

"They-" Dastan began before his words faltered.

They had cut off her hair.

The long black locks which had fallen past her breasts now barely reached her shoulders. There were no crystals or beads braided into her hair either. When her hood was up, her hair was just long enough to seem as though it was simply brushed back. But without the hood there was no hiding it. She had said that the Council would punish her in a ceremonial, public way but even he could not have thought that they would cut off her hair. In a way it was jarring to see her without the length of her ebony hair but the moment the thought crossed his mind, Dastan realized that was exactly what the Council had intended. Standing by the fountain with her head bowed, the shortness of her hair made her seem younger somehow. Suddenly Dastan was overcome with the urge to get his blades out and go show the High Council what the term 'punishment' really meant. Only the sight of Tamina with her eyes on the ground, looking as though she wished for it to swallow her whole, made him stay there with her.

"Well," Dastan said finally, "I suppose this means you won't be braiding those annoying crystals in your hair for a while."

Tamina's eyes flew up to his face, the embarrassment fleeing from her eyes as she looked at him carefully. Dastan swept his eyes over her. Even back in the garb of a Priestess, the short hair was a clear reminder of what they had been through together. Even if the haircut was her punishment, it did not make her look ugly. In some strange way, Dastan thought, it suited her. Finally Tamina crossed her arms and looked at him, any embarrassment she felt becoming eclipsed by the satisfied look in his eyes.

"And what, precisely, is so annoying about the crystals in my hair?" she asked.

"Well you did say they were heavy," Dastan began.

"This coming from a man who painstakingly arranges beads in his hair?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Delight filled her at the sight of his own temper coming to life. Suddenly the knowledge that her hair had been shorn off to show the world she had disobeyed the Council seemed not to matter. No more than the fact his brothers had rode off for Persia a few moments ago. When it was just the two of them in the gardens, it seemed as if very little else mattered in the world. Dastan leaned forward, his eyes dancing.

"Oh I don't do that," he said, "thats why I kept Bis around."

"Is it now? I thought he stayed to remind you how stupid you could be," she said moving closer to him as well.

"Well the thing is that now I have this wife who seems to be more than capable of informing me of such things herself," he said, one of his hands reaching out and touching her waist.

"Oh really?" Tamina said, arching an eyebrow as his hand continued its lazy path along the curve of her waist, "and what else does this wife of yours do?"

"Remarkable things," Dastan said, "like tying me to beds and reminding me when I am an idiot," he continued as his hand settled at the small of her back, "and yet she still finds it in her endless grace to stay married to me."

"You're right," Tamina said, her lips curving into a smile as her hand reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the hairs of his re-growing beard tickle her palm, "she does sound rather remarkable."

Dastan leaned forward and pressed their lips together, kissing her passionately as his other arm wound around her waist. Tamina wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing fully against him as her body dipped backwards, his hands easily spanning her back to keep her on her feet. The world seemed to cease to exist as he kissed her thoroughly with the fountain bubbling in the background of her mind.

A light clearing of a throat broke them apart and drew their eyes to Sahar. She stood by the entrance to the garden, her head bowed and her hands folded neatly in front of her body. Behind her stood Bis, looking quite comfortable to be clean. They broke apart but Dastan's hands tightened on Tamina's waist, not letting her pull away to face her guardian.

"My apologies, your Highness," Sahar began, "but the Council-" she began.

"I think the Council can wait a bit," Bis said seamlessly stepping forward before Dastan could even glare at him, "its been a busy few days for them anyway," he continued.

Sahar looked at him with a scathing arch of her eyebrow before her eyes widened as Bis maneuvered himself to her side, easily forcing her to look at him instead of the couple behind him. Sahar opened and closed her mouth, turning her head to look at Tamina before Bis caught her attention once more. With equal ease, he had a hand appropriately high on her back, seemingly unaffected by the outrage and surprise on her face at the touch. At least until the guardian stepped forward, moving out of his range and one step farther from Tamina and Dastan.

"I have a question to ask you," Bis said quickly, keeping the guardian moving, "now, be honest, what would you say if I told you that your looks brought me back from the dead?"

Tamina bit her lip in a failed attempt to keep her laughter from happening outright. Dastan chuckled, shaking his head.

"I take it back. _That_ is why I keep Bis around," he said.

"To distract my second in command and keep me from doing my duties?" she asked, turning back to him.

"Yes to the first," he said, "as for the second," he continued, "I am more than capable of accomplishing that myself."

Tamina laughed at the confidence with which he spoke the words and Dastan was more than happy to join in. When the laughter had died, she looked up at him with her eyes dancing.

"So," she said, "we have saved the world, eradicated the last of your Uncle's treachery and we have only been married for a little more than a week."

"That does sound like quite a lot to accomplish in such a short time," Dastan said.

"Any plans for what will come next?" Tamina asked, turning her head to the side to study him.

Dastan looked at her, his eyes softening as he took in the form of his wife. It did seem impossible that so much had happened and yet as he held her body to his, he realized that it seemed oddly right. That if he thought any of it had been a dream, he had to do little more than look at her to know it had happened. Not only had it happened but they had come through it in one piece-more or less. And to think, he had half been sure he would marry some stuffy Princess who looked down on him as a man of lower birth. As he looked at her his face broke into a smile.

"I have no idea," he said, "but I look forward to finding out."

Tamina's only reply was to close the distance between them and press her mouth to his once more.

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**KEEP GOING!**

**I mean, uh, stop and review if you want. You know i love the MBR support. **

**Or just go. **


	31. Chapter 31

The warm breeze blew across the bare skin of Tamina's back.

Standing on the balcony, looking out at the gardens below her, the Princess of Alamut closed her eyes and breathed in, letting the fragrance of the flowers below her feet fill her nose. It was a peaceful night, as nights tended to be in Alamut, with only the sound of the wind blowing through the branches to remind her she was not in a dream. The pale stone of the balcony she stood on was bathed in the flicker of candlelight from the room behind her, the fragrance of the wax only adding to the peaceful haze that had settled over her body.

A warm, well muscled back was suddenly against hers. Not opening her eyes, Tamina leaned back against the form of her husband, feeling the warmth of his body seep through her own. His arms easily came around her, calloused hands sliding across her arms as the gold worry beads looped around his wrist slipped across her skin. In the month since they had been married, his beard had fully re-grown back to its pre-wedding glory and the beads had slowly found their way back into his chocolate hair. Her own darker hair had begun to regrow from the shaming haircut the council had forced upon her, though it would be a while before her hair fell as far as it once had. But Tamina found she did not mind the lack of hair as much as she had thought.

"I received word from Zolm," she said, "it seems the boys are adjusting rather well to the Valley, though Amar seems intent on making them into Ostrich jockey's."

"I imagine our Hassansin friend loves that," Dastan said, the vibration of his chest soothing against her spine.

Tamina smiled, the look of peaceful contentment not leaving her face as her eyes slowly drifted open. They had taken to coming to the balcony at night, after their duties for the day were complete. The chaos that had ruled the first few weeks of their marriage had given way to an oddly comforting sort of routine that half terrified and half enthralled the usually chaotic-prone Prince. But if the stiffness and the routine got to be too much and he vanished for an hour or two to go run through the city of Alamut, no-one commented. Just as Tamina seemed to have found an ally in Bis, Dastan had come to find one in Sahar who seemed to have an endless amount of perfectly plausible excuses for his absences. Now more often than not, his runs came during the middle of the day. It was almost impossible to separate himself from Tamina in the mornings until it was absolutely necessary.

It was still strange to live in Alamut, to wake every day next to the woman who stood with her back against his chest, the steady beat of her heart echoing the rhythm of his own. But the strangeness of it was not necessarily a bad thing. Their early adventure had won him the respect and love of the people who already adored his wife. Not being looked down on because of things he had no control over was an equally strange and wonderful thing. With each passing day he found himself thinking of Alamut more and more as his home. As something he wanted to protect as skillfully as he protected Persia.

"I imagine it is a good thing the Sheik has two bodyguards," Tamina replied, looking up at him.

"You're probably right," Dastan said, "Sahar tells me she's going to visit the guardian temple."

"Yes," Tamina said, "the rebuilding is under way. She wishes to see it," she smiled, "she tells me Bis has decided to go with her. Apparently for 'protection'."

"I'm not sure if he'll be providing it, or in dire need of it," Dastan said with a smile.

"Probably both," Tamina replied, returning his smile, resting her head against the broad expanse of his shoulder.

They lapsed into silence, content to stand in each others company with the gardens spread below them and the stars twinkling above their heads. Sometimes the life of the palace was enough to make them go mad, sometimes it was enough to make them wish to be back in the desert. And sometimes it was so wonderful it was hard to believe that the life was theirs. Dastan traced his fingers across the fading mark on his wife's shoulder from the Hassansins dart, the pink skin faint enough for the robes she wore to once more be sleeveless. He felt her head move as she watched his fingers, her eyes taking in the dark, ropy scar that decorated his forearm. She knew her marks would fade, his would remain, but the scar on his wrist only reminded her of what they had accomplished.

Dastan watched as Tamina's hand covered his own, her body moving away from his as she turned around in his arms. Raising her head, Tamina looked up at him. The remnants of the kohl she decorated her eyes with made them look darker, though the brightness in them was enough to make his breath catch. It had been weeks since his last nightmare, since he watched her fall to her death. Just as it had been weeks since she had last seen the Hassansins poison take hold of him in the way it was supposed to. Dreams of death were hard to have when the subject was there with their arms around you.

"What is it?" Tamina asked him softly.

"Do you find it strange that you do not remember what happened between us?" he asked, "in the time that never came to pass?"

Tamina looked at him carefully, considering her reply. After what they had been through together, the idea of another time and another adventure had become oddly easier to bear. She remembered when he had first told her of what happened, when she had thought that it would be impossible to understand what he had been through and what it would be like to suffer through what he had. Almost as impossible as falling in love with him would be. But their adventure together had shown her that it was not impossible-that _nothing_ was impossible. Not really. Looping her arms around his neck, Tamina looked up at him.

"Sometimes," Tamina admitted, "but then I remember we did have our own adventure in this time."

"That we did," Dastan agreed.

He too had come to appreciate the beauty of having gone on an impossible adventure with Tamina. One that no-one had died on that should not have. But most importantly it was one that she remembered. One that they shared together. Standing in the temple a month ago, still suffering from the effects of the Dagger, he wondered if he could have ever even dreamed that they would be standing on the balcony as they were. As he looked at her he realized that even if he could have dreamed it up, it would have been nothing like what had actually happened between them.

"Strange, isn't it, to think that all of this happened because of a Dagger," Tamina said.

"You mean that Gods cursed knife of yours," Dastan said.

"I mean the Dagger that controls time," Tamina replied easily.

"Well," Dastan said, "I suppose I could see that. But you know-"

"That we make our own destiny," Tamina finished for him, her eyes dancing at the thrill of the ages old argument they would undoubtably have for years to come.

Impulsively Dastan leaned forward and pressed his mouth softly to her own. Tamina smiled against his lips, her own soft as they met his. The desperate edge that had ruled their first kisses was little more than a memory as she pressed against him, the bedsheet that served as her dress slipping. Without breaking the kiss, Dastan's hand caught the thing, wrapping the errant fabric around his hand as his arms pulled her closer to his body. Slowly Tamina pulled back, looking up at Dastan. His eyes locked with her own, his face slowly breaking into a smile as he looked at her.

"Time, destiny, all of it has led us here," Tamina said.

"You may have a point," Dastan said finally. Tamina raised her eyebrow, "after all of this, if you still think we're each other's destiny, who am I to argue with that?"

Tamina was so surprised that he had agreed with what she said, she barely reacted as his hand reached to her knees and he swept her into his arms. Hers easily found his neck as she looked into her husband's bright eyes, her own surprise fading as she looked into his steady eyes. He looked back at her, meaning every word that came out of his lips. Slowly her lips curved into a smile as she shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable spot in his strong, capable arms.

"And time?" Tamina asked, tilting her head to her side.

"Well," Dastan said with a charming smile as he carried her inside, "all we have now is time."

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**_The End_**


	32. Chapter 32

**OMigosh I cannot BELIEVE this is over!**

**And to think all of this started out as a dare! Yeah, I was double-dog dared by a friend to write a story at the breakneck pace of a chapter a day. And you should never back down from a double-dog dare. That's just a good life lesson. SO I did it and this fic happened!**

**So here's the playlist I promised you all!**

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**PLAYLIST**

**_Utopia (feat. Chris Jones) by Within Temptation_**

**GREAT D/T song. I especially love the line "where I am going you won't be in the end" which I think is great for their especially angsty moments. I'd also say it became my unofficial angsty Tamina theme for the fic. **

**_I Want to Spend My Lifetime Loving You (duet with Marc Anthony) by Tina Arena_**

**Okay its for the Mask of Zorro but with words about the brevity of life and talking about spending the short time you have with another person just makes this song fit perfectly. And if Utopia was my Tamina theme, this was my Dastan theme. **

**_Children of Dune Soundtrack by Brian Tyler_**

**My go-to classical music for this piece. Just great background music with a beautiful, epic feel to it that suites this story very well. Also some of the more dramatic music is great for Tus. **

**_Faithfully by Glee_**

**I think this song made it on because I am a Gleek and the finale happened while this fic was in production. But its a great song for them, especially with all the words about "right down the lie its been you and me" which totally works for them. **

**_The Good Ship Venus by Loudon Wainwright III_**

**Very dirty drinking song that was done on the album "Rogue's Gallery". Its a dirty song with a great, light violin part and therefore the ultimate jam for Amar and the Valley. **

**_Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum by The Corsairs_**

**Here's a funny story. My ipod was on shuffle when i was writing Zolm's entrance and this song came up. Maybe that's why it made sense for him to go with Sheik Amar at the end. **

**_The Swashbuckler and the Fair Maiden by Future World Music_**

**This things' been used in a TON of trailers but I think it is a great song to write a fight sequence to. **

**_Septimus by Andy Brown_**

**Off the Stardust soundtrack. Totally makes me think of Garsiv-or just riding in general. **

**_At the Beginning from Anastasia_**

**I don't know why but this song always makes me smile. I like it as the ending music for the fic. **

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**Now a big THANK YOU to you all!  
**

**Well thank you to everyone who reviewed, be it by the review button or PM or email or AIM. Your words were very much appreciated. Thank you for all the encouragement, the suggestions and even the demands for updates once it had been established they would come every day!**

**This fic has been a crazy wild ride! **

**And we managed to get through it (almost) drama free! Well who cares about the drama? Everyone else was so incredibly awesome it makes my head spin! You guys and gals were a fantastic audience!**

**But don't go getting all upset. While this fic is done I've got another in the works that I am super-pumped about. AND we're gonna have the awesomeness of a fully M rated story. Oh and we'll have the smutty oneshots coming very soon as well. Now as of right now I've got no plans for a sequel to THIS story, but that might change. **

**So for now I bid you all adieu and leave you all with the quote that's been on my desktop since I first put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard if you prefer): **

"Alice laughed: "There's no use trying," she said; "one can't believe impossible things."  
"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

_Alice in Wonderland_

**Thank you and Goodnight!**

**Enchantable **


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